


With Only Strangers Watching

by Meddalarksen, victoriousscarf



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, American Civil War, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 12:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meddalarksen/pseuds/Meddalarksen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Among the rumblings of a civil war, a chance meeting among Richmond's elite almost goes unnoticed. Mistoffelees Jones is too young to be of much note, however he comes to age during a time of war, and that chance meeting keeps happening. Scattered across the country and battlefields, he keeps running into Coricopat, first as a socialite and then as a solider. </p><p>Borderline crossed lovers or not, once the war starts, all Macavity really wants is to get his troops home safely. Even if that includes women disguised as men and men in love with Southern aristocrats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where Else Would I Be?

_Fall 1860_

The day was mild when Bustopher Jones decided to throw a party. The plantation owner could care less for any tension in the capitol of the nation, and if he cared at all about the only months old attack by abolitionist John Brown or any of the other stirrings of warfare and slave revolts, he was more likely to celebrate Brown's execution then anything.

But little of Richmond's society would decline an invitation to his home, and thus those invitations were in short supply.

Coricopat Zimmerman glanced at the older man in the carriage with him, arching a brow, "Remind me again, Frank, how you managed to obtain these invitations?"

The man across the carriage smiled vaguely at him before turning back out the window. "Come now, Cori, is that really the question to ask? I have influence, and you need to be better introduced to society if you intend to stay here."

He returned the smile faintly, his grey gaze drifting to the window, "You have enough influence to earn two invitations to Bustopher Jones'.  Do you have any other surprises I should be aware of tonight?"

Franklin laughed. "From me? Not tonight. At least not until much later."

The younger man's smile sharpened, his eyes glinting, "I'll keep that in mind.  Do you know who I should be expecting to see there?  Or is there anyone you specifically want me to shake hands with?"

Franklin laughed. "Jones would certainly be the place to start."

The brunet shook his head, grey eyes widening ever so slightly in mock surprise, "Really?  I never would have guessed."

Franklin gave him a long look. "There will also be a man named Growltiger who will be there. His last name isn't nearly as relevant as his first, so stick to that. Be very polite but he's a good contact to have. Being nice to Jones' family is always considered good form."

Coricopat glanced away, "Right, Growltiger.  And Jones and his family.  Is there anything I should know to avoid about those two highly influential men?"

"Complimenting Growltiger's wife too highly. He's a very jealous man, even though we know he'd have nothing to fear from you," Franklin smirked. "Jones may be distasteful but he's influential, and with his support many people have risen to fall when he doesn't like them anymore. He's almost a Virginian Tudor."

His lips curling into an almost self-conscious smile, Coricopat inclined his head, "No, he'd have nothing to fear from me, but I'll be careful in my compliments.  And I'll do my best to avoid damaging Jones' good opinion."

"Good," Franklin nodded. "So please, for the love of god don't gape like a fish when we get there."

"Franklin, I thank you for your great confidence in me,"  Coricopat shook his head.  "I will avoid that, I give you my word."

"Good," Franklin said, giving him a long look. "Because you haven't enjoyed every sight in Virginia so far."

The younger man sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose, "I disagree with several things, but I am capable of keeping my mouth shut."

"Good," Franklin nodded again, considering his younger lover for a long moment. "Because I don't think you want to move to Detroit due to a lack of options."

Coricopat's grey eyes widened at that as he eyed the other man, "No, Frank, you're well aware I don't."

Franklin nodded, reaching out to pat his knee. "And I'm glad of that, whatever friend you have up there. You belong more in a world like this then his."

The younger man offered him a bit of a smile, but turned his gaze back to the window.  He wasn't certain he believed that, Virginia seemed like a different world entirely on many days, and he still wasn't certain how settled he was getting.  His only communication with his closest friend was the occasional letter he penned and managed to send off, but he knew he was growing even more intermittent with those.

Even if Franklin tended to mutter darkly about the sheer volume of letters arriving from Macavity, as the man was a voracious writer when he had the time.

Their carriage shuddered, pulling to a stop in front of the townhouse.

Coricopat drew a deep breath, straightening his suit coat and steeling himself for another evening among Richmond's elite.  He could only hope that he didn't say something incredibly damning tonight.

Rather than informing him to relax, Franklin patted him on the shoulder before leading the way inside.

The younger of the two men fell in a step behind his lover, entering the residence and sending his gaze sweeping around the elaborate house. Many guests were already there, chatting and filling the entry hall, music floating from the upstairs though there seemed to be no dancing going on.

Coricopat glanced from one guest to the next, filing away faces he would likely have to put names with later as he stepped carefully around the women’s' skirts.  He paused slightly when he finally saw their host and his eyes darted to Franklin.

"Ah, Bustopher," Franklin said, approaching and smiling warmly.

"Franklin," the rotund man replied, as if being on a first name basis made them entirely friendly toward each other. "How good of you to actually come."

"I would like to introduce a young man of my acquaintance," Franklin continued, after they had shaken each other's hand. He motioned for Coricopat to come forward. "This is Coricopat Zimmerman, from New York."

Coricopat stepped forward, bowing slightly to the other man and offering his hand, "Mr. Jones.  It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

"I'm sure," Jones rumbled, entirely certain of his own self importance. "It is rare for us to host a Yankee now a days."

The brunet glanced at Franklin briefly, but offered a ghost of a smile, "I may be from New York, sir, but I find Virginia to be far more to my taste."

"Ah, a good man," Jones said, clapping him on the back. "Intelligent too."

Managing not to startle at the sudden contact, Coricopat inclined his head, "I'm glad you think so, sir."

"I'm sure you'll find occasion to be glad," Jones said, glancing around. "Ah, there Victoria is. Come here dear," he said, motioning his daughter over.

A young blonde dressed in a blue gown made her way over, offering them a shy smile, "Yes, Father?"

"I would like you to meet someone recommended to me," Jones said, gesturing her in front of Coricopat. "A Coricopat Zimmerman, from New York. The city?" he asked the younger man. "Or simply the state."

"The city," Coricopat responded quickly.

Victoria dipped a curtsey, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Zimmerman."

The Yankee glanced from the girl to Jones and back as he offered her a bow, "And you, Miss Jones."

Jones beamed between them, Franklin looking a shade less happy. "I have a nephew too, somewhere here, if he can ever be found."

Victoria glanced at her father at that, slipping a half-excuse in, "I'm sure he's quite near, Father.  You know he doesn't wish to be in the way."

"It still be useful if he could be found," Jones groused, looking around.

"I'm sure he'll turn up soon, Father," the young woman murmured.

"Yes, of course," Jones started, glancing over and suddenly  barking, "Mistoffelees!"

A black haired youth turned and moved towards Jones, changing his entire trajectory smoothly as if clearly he'd always been meaning to do this way and not the opposite one at all. "Yes, uncle?" he said, voice entirely polite and contrite. His eyes moved across the group, intending to move past Coricopat and stopping there instead.

Coricopat's gaze had moved in that direction and he glanced over the other, before meeting his eyes and offering the younger man a faint smile before clearing his expression.

Jones nodded. "Good. You are actually here this time."

"Of course I am, uncle," Mistoffelees said, giving him a charming smile and slightly widened, innocent eyes. "Where else would I be?"

Jones looked like there were numerous answers he'd like to give, based off past experience, but turned back to Coricopat. "And now, my nephew, Mistoffelees Jones, Mistoffelees, this is Coricopat Zimmerman." Mistoffelees blinked at him again, tilting his head slightly in consideration.

Coricopat considered him for a moment, offering a half bow and hyper-aware of Franklin's presence at his side, "A pleasure, I'm sure."

Franklin was chatting quietly to Victoria, glancing over from time to time as Mistoffelees' brows shot up and held a hand out. "How gallant, but a pleasure, certainly."

Smiling faintly, the taller man shook the offered hand, "And how does this evening find you, sir?"

"Present," Mistoffelees said, having glanced over to make sure Jones was discussing matters with someone else before giving the cheeky reply. "And yourself?"

Coricopat's smile brightened slightly in amusement, "Quite well, actually.  Or, rather, present at least."

"Good," Mistoffelees said, eyes warm. "Your accent is a bit different. Where are you from?" he asked, having missed any New York comments.

"Oh, um, New York City actually."

"Oh," Mistoffelees said, something wistful moving across his expression. "Is it nice there?"

"It's, well, it's different.  Fast-paced, crowded, busy, but I certainly didn't mind growing up there."

"Sadly, my uncle disapproves of travel except for business reasons," Mistoffelees said, inclining his head slightly. "Though I've always wanted to visit."

"Well, perhaps someday," Coricopat offered a slight smile.  "Have you lived here your whole life?"

"What I remember of it," Mistoffelees said.

The older man nodded slightly, "Do you like it here?"

Mistoffelees tilted his head, as if seriously trying to consider that. "It... it's a beautiful city, and the weather tends to be well."

"It certainly is that."  He drew his gaze away from the other to glance around, lingering for a moment on Franklin before returning his attention, "So you live with your uncle then?"

"Yes," Mistoffelees said, expression shuttering off slightly. "My father was from New York. Well, from Italy by way of New York."

"If he was anything like some of the Italians I've met he must have been quite the man," Coricopat offered, catching the past tense and acknowledging it.

Pausing for a moment, Mistoffelees considered him. "I've heard he was."

"How old were you?"  the question slipped out before he caught it.

"Not yet five," Mistoffelees said, a hand nervously tapping his leg before stilling. "The memories I have are not quite specific."

Coricopat nodded very slightly at that, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't pry."

Mistoffelees lifted his shoulders and let them fall. "It's been a decade. According to some that's more than enough time."

"Then some haven't lost what you did," the other replied quietly.

Eyes darting to his uncle, Mistoffelees looked back at Coricopat, smiling faintly. "No. Generally not."

The guests around them parted slightly as a gentleman and his wife made their way through and over toward Jones and the others around him.

Almost instantly Mistoffelees' expression brightened, as Growltiger approached Jones, their initial greeting brief but fulfilling all appearances needed to, even as Franklin started angling himself toward Coricopat again.

Griddebone slipped her hand from her husband's arm, smoothing the front of her green dress as she offered Mistoffelees a smile, her eyes dancing as she paid a small portion of her attention to Jones and Growltiger.

The two men greeted each other with false affection, that would have fooled anyone watching, except around Jones' eyes and the sardonic curl of one corner of Growltiger's mouth. "So good of you to come."

"Only glad I could make it," Growltiger replied, only there for the status and explosure, and the fact his wife had quietly insisted.

Grids glanced toward Coricopat and Franklin, arching an eyebrow, but not speaking of them as she turned back to Mistoffelees, murmuring, "It's good to see you this evening."

"I am glad you could make it," he said, smiling, one corner of his mouth tilting up higher than the other. "Oh, lady Griddlebone, this is Coricopat Zimmerman. I was just talking to him."

She offered Coricopat a cordial smile, "It is good to meet you, sir."

"And you, ma'am," Coricopat returned the smile faintly.

"He's from New York," Mistoffelees added and offered Coricopat a faint smile. "I'm sorry. You must be sick of that being the only fact spoken of you."

The other man chuckled, "Well, it's not as though I've offered much more than that."

Griddlebone's brows rose, "New York?  You're rather a long way from home."

"I find Virginia suits me well," he offered her a variant on the near lie he'd given Jones.

Mistoffelees' eyebrow quirked up at that, glancing at Griddlebone and nearly jumping when Franklin appeared behind his shoulder. "Lady Griddlebone, it is good to see you."

Griddlebone's smile shifted to something a hair less real than the one Mistoffelees had originally garnered, "Franklin.  It is a pleasant surprise to see you this evening."

"I hope it is a pleasant one," Franklin smiled and even Mistoffelees could tell the answer was no, not sure if he'd ever actually met the other man before.

She inclined her head to him, "Would I say it was if it wasn't?"  She rested her hand on Growltiger's arm again, the touch light enough that it shouldn't distract him unless he wished it.

Growltiger turned at that, plenty read to be done with Jones. "Yes, my dear?"

"Did you see who else made it tonight, my love?" she asked nodding her head slightly in Franklin's direction.

Growltiger blinked. "Ah, Franklin. Whatever brought you all the way down here?"

Coricopat's brow arched at that response and he glanced at Franklin for a cue of how to respond to this couple. Franklin just put on a charming smile. "Business, like always," he said. "How fares your own ships?"

A small smile graced the curve of Growltiger's mouth. "Lucratively, like they always do."

Griddlebone smiled faintly at that, slipping her hand from Growltiger's arm again, taking a step away.  Her gaze moved to Mistoffelees before she excused herself quietly.

Mistoffelees offered Coricopat a faint smile. "It was nice to meet you," he said, actual warmth in his voice before ducking away quickly.

"And you," the other man murmured, watching him go before turning his attention back to Franklin and Growltiger.

Griddlebone paused a short distance away to wait for Mistoffelees, offering him a bright smile when he joined her. Mistoffelees grinned. "I'm glad you at least could make it," he murmured. "Since I might as well have been under marching orders to attend."

"I was hardly going to leave you to your own devices for a party like this," Griddlebone answered.  "How are you, honestly?"

"Honestly?" he replied. "There have been many worse days." He paused, looking around the room. "Victoria is doing worse than I am, since she can be married now."

Griddlebone sighed softly, shaking her head, "That poor girl.  I wish her luck."

"More then you had?" Mistoffelees asked softly, when he was sure no one could hear him. "How have you been faring?"

She shook her head slightly, "I have been faring as well as I ever do.  I am growing tired of dealing with the jealousy, but I am faring as well as ever."

"Well as ever," the youth smiled. "He's away on business a lot though."

"Thank goodness.  I think I would go mad if I had to deal with him more than I already do."  She shook her head, her gaze moving to where Growltiger was, "He has his moments, but...I just wish your cousin better luck."

"And me?" Mistoffelees asked, trying to make light of it.

Griddlebone smiled, "You know I always wish you well.  You've a couple of years yet, though."

Mistoffelees paused, looking over the party. "If that ever becomes an issue. It might not matter though if we go to war," Mistoffelees said, softly.

Griddlebone sighed quietly, "No, not a lot will matter at that point."

Mistoffelees took a deep breath, letting out a soft laugh. "It's too bad uncle decided against dancing. It might have helped."

That earned a faint laugh, "Have you been up to see the musicians yet tonight?"

"Not yet," he said, making a face. "My dearly loved uncle growled at me too much. I have to meet all the important people first," he said, eyes drifting over to where Coricopat was standing next to Franklin and Growltiger.

"And the Yankee is important people?"  she arched an eyebrow.

"No," Mistoffelees said. "But he was nicer then the important people."

"What brings him all the way down here?"

 "I didn't ask," Mistoffelees said, shaking his head slightly.

"Well, he seems to know what to say at the very least.  Or not say as the case may be," she kept her gaze focused across the room on her husband and the other two men.

Mistoffelees laughed. "He knows something, that's certain."

She smiled, "Well, I should certainly hope so.  Did he come with Franklin then?"

"Yes," Mistoffelees said, a small frown appearing between his brows. "That man, I am much less sure of."

"Have you met Franklin then?"

"Briefly," Mistoffelees replied.

"Alright, so it's not just me who has that reaction to him then.  There's...something about him, you know?"

"I do," Mistoffelees sighed. "But I feel like there should be something else. Something to understand."

"How so?"  she glanced at him.

"There has to be some reason he makes my skin crawl," he said, shifting his shoulders tightly before settling.

"Probably, but I do rather hope that whatever it is doesn't cause disaster for all concerned."

"We have enough of that," Mistoffelees agreed.

Griddlebone offered him another faint smile, "Well, I really probably ought to say hello to your cousin."

"I think she'd appreciate it," he said and paused as his uncle motioned to him from across the room. "Oh. More important people."

"Good luck," she murmured before starting toward Victoria.

He dithered as long as he could, before approaching his uncle again, glancing over his shoulder one more time toward Coricopat. Coricopat glanced in his direction before turning at least part of his attention back to Franklin.

The evening passed uneventfully, Coricopat eventually excusing himself from the latest introduction and inane conversation that Franklin had drawn him into.  He made his way through the party to the edge of the room, glancing up and wishing, not for the first time that night, that he'd had someone he actually knew there.  Macavity in this setting would be moderately amusing, but more than slightly disastrous too, probably.  He paused as he thought he spotted Mistoffelees and glanced around to check where Franklin was before starting in that direction.

Except it wasn't Mistoffelees, because the youth was in the hidden balcony where the musicians played, talking animatedly with the cello player. He poked his head over the edge of the stairs as Coricopat went by underneath, and even though musicians weren't supposed to be seen he whistled, hoping to get the other's attention.

The taller man glanced up, smiling when he saw the youth.  He changed direction and, glancing toward where Franklin was engaged in another serious conversation, slipped up the stairs.

Several of the musicians glanced at him, but where at this point far more used to Mistoffelees hiding up there with them then not and none bothered to comment as Mistoffelees moved over to sit at the top of the stairs. "Surprised you're still here. It's been a long night and you got here early."

Coricopat sat down beside him, shaking his head, "If I had my way I probably wouldn't, but I've got to wait until Franklin finishes whatever business he's dealing with."

"What is his business anyway?" Mistoffelees asked.

"To hear him tell it as regards me?  Influence.  Or rather gaining it.  But he works as an intermediary for some merchants I believe."

Mistoffelees did not look impressed with that. "Right. Sounds... lovely. How'd you get caught up with him exactly?"

Coricopat shrugged very slightly, "I met him on one of his trips to New York.  He offered me a job down here and I didn't have any really promising prospects up there beyond Detroit, which I was hardly interested in."

Mistoffelees' nose wrinkled up slightly. "What's in Detroit?"

"My closest friend moved there some four years ago, but beyond that?  Not much."

Mistoffelees watched the people milling around below, propping his chin up with one hand. "Well, that's something at least. And more then worth a little."

"I suppose so," Coricopat glanced at him.  "I've just never been one for being that far from the coast.  There's so much change going on, that it's nice sometimes to be a little nearer to the roots of it."

Mistoffelees gave him a long considering look. "Change?" he asked, voice carefully neutral.

"Well, I mean..." the other shrugged slightly, "New arrivals, currently the political change is constant.  I mean, there's...it's hard to explain I suppose.  Detroit just wouldn't suit."

Mistoffelees smiled. "No, I don't imagine it would suit you."

Coricopat returned the smile, relaxing for the first time all night, "Really?  You can state that with any sort of certainty?"

"Well, not certainty, not certain certainty," Mistoffelees laughed. "But it doesn't seem like it would be you, somewhere farther away. You're too..."

"Northern?"  He offered with an arched eyebrow.

"Well technically Michigan is Northern too," Mistoffelees grinned.

That garnered a laugh, "Michigan is Michigan.  And it simply isn't me.  I was born and raised in New York, and I fully expected to live out my life and die there as well."

"Now you sound almost Southern," Mistoffelees drawled, elongating his vowels.

"Well, wasn't that part of the purpose of Franklin dragging me along to this?"  He gestured to the main floor, "To convince everyone that even if I am a Yankee I can fit in with you lot?"

"Was it?" Mistoffelees asked. "Because that lot and I have different definitions of fitting in, and yet you're currently hiding up here with me and the musicians."

"Well, in part.  I just, I couldn't stay down there, smiling, nodding, being introduced and shown about like a dancing bear.  Not a single person down there that I know to be able to talk to.  And the only person I can think of that I wish was here would cause chaos, which I can hardly expect to make a good impression."

Mistoffelees glanced down and up again. "Would that person be that friend in Michigan?"

Coricopat smiled faintly at that, "Yes.  I'll write him tonight probably.  I'm long overdue for that."

"You said there was no person down there you would be able to talk to," Mistoffelees said after a moment.

"Did I?  Oh, I did.  No, there really wasn't."

"What about up here?" Mistoffelees asked, voice soft.

Coricopat offered him a gentle smile at that, "Up here there certainly is."

Mistoffelees' smile was faintly crooked. "Well, I suppose that's something."

"Do you often retreat up here?"

"Why did you think my uncle was so pleased to actually find me at his party?" Mistoffelees couldn't help but smirk slightly.

That garnered a quiet laugh, "I see.  How long do you usually stay?"

"Last time I was conveniently out of town for several days," Mistoffelees deadpanned back. "He still won't forgive me for that one."

Coricopat smiled, "Well, that solved that problem apparently for that."

"There was also the time I spent the entire party at Griddlebone’s," Mistoffelees mused. "Actually... I've managed to avoid the majority of these."

"Well, that's something then."  He sighed, "I should probably see if Franklin's ready to leave yet..."

Mistoffelees leaned his head down to look. "I doubt it. He's cornered an ambassador."

"Wonderful...we're going to be here all night."

"We have spare rooms," Mistoffelees informed him, sounding and looking completely serious. "I could sneak you into one."

The glance he received was amused, "Thank you, but I'll be fine.  After all, staying too late would be rude as well."

Mistoffelees shrugged. "You're right. Usually the guests have to leave at some point."

"It is a nice enough gala."

"If you like galas or can stand any of the people," Mistoffelees agreed mildly. "The music’s nice," and the cello player grinned cheekily at him.

"The music is quite nice," he agreed, glancing at the musicians.

"Hires all the best musicians and still no dancing," Mistoffelees sighed.

"You like dancing?"  Coricopat turned his full attention back to the youth.

Something wistful entered his expression again. "Of course."

"Do you have much chance for it?"

"Tonight or in general?" Mistoffelees asked in some surprise.

"In general,” Coricopat replied.

"Victoria will dance with me sometimes," Mistoffelees said. "Otherwise... not nearly enough."

"That's a pity.  You seem the sort who would be quite good at it if given the opportunity."

Mistoffelees laughed. "I am quite good at it actually."

"And humble too," Coricopat replied with a laugh.

"Only about some things," Mistoffelees teased.

"And what else might those things be?"  The other asked.

"That I'm humble about, or the ones I believe it's my right to be arrogant over?" Mistoffelees asked, crossing his elbows on his knees and leaning forward slightly.

"Both?  Either?  Your choice."

"Well," Mistoffelees said, as if actually considering. "Dancing. Cards. Dice tricks but my uncle still doesn't know about that one, and I'm quite fashionable."

Coricopat's gaze skittered over the other, "Fashionable indeed."

The corners of Mistoffelees' smirk faltered but he laughed. "Glad you think so too. It's a long practiced art, of looking like one should."

Lips curling into a grin, Coricopat nodded, "It really is, there is no argument there."

"You might consider a different tie color," Mistoffelees said mildly.

The older man arched an eyebrow and glanced down, "Might I?  What would you suggest?"

"A darker color," Mistoffelees said, finger flicking out touch the tie. "For evening wear, especially if you want to make a good, strong impression on the people here."

Coricopat's hand moved to cover his tie, "I'll keep it in mind."

"It's a lovely tie," Mistoffelees said, smiling. "But it would suit afternoon or morning wear better."

 "Well, thank you for the advice, I’ll see to it that I make sure to wear something darker with my eveningwear in the future."

"You sound so pechulant," Mistoffelees teased.

"Considering what I had to go through to figure out what I was supposed to wear tonight?  I think I've earned some petulance."

"You did well," Mistoffelees laughed quietly. "I'm sure you made a favorable impression on the majority of people here, and that's hard to achieve."

That earned a relieved smile, "You really think so?"

"You've been perfectly charming," Mistoffelees assured him. "Even for a Yank. Especially for one. You're dressed well, and if anyone noticed I'm sure they thought it was eccentric rather than bad taste."

"Thank you, that means a lot."

Mistoffelees blinked, eyes widening slightly. "Uh. You're most welcome then."

Coricopat sighed, glancing around the room below them to try and locate Franklin, "I really ought to see what time he intends to leave..."

"That, might be a good idea," Mistoffelees said, noticing the eye Franklin was giving the room. "Yes. It would be best for you to go, and probably not to mention where you hid."

"Oh, I give my word that I won’t be mentioning where I hid.  Good evening, sir."  He rose and started down the stairs.

"Good evening," Mistoffelees said softly after him, pulling his knees a bit tighter up to his chest.

Coricopat reached the main floor and slipped through the crowd to Franklin's side, "Looking for someone, or just me?"

"Just you," Franklin replied, frowning at him slightly. "Where ever did you get yourself off to?"

"I stepped out for a moment.  You know I don't do well with prolonged exposure to crowded rooms," he murmured in response.

Franklin hummed, already trying to think how to get rid of such a weakness. "Of course."

Coricopat eyed him, but glanced away, "Did I miss any important introductions?"

"No," Franklin said, moving to the side, trailing a hand along Coricopat's back. "If you are done, I believe we can leave."

The younger man offered him a ghost of a smile, "I'm done so long as you are."

"Then let us adjourn," Franklin said, adding a hint of suggestion into his tone before going to take his leave of the host.

Following Franklin to bid a good evening to Jones, Coricopat couldn't help but spare a glance at where he knew Mistoffelees was sequestered with the musicians. Jones waved them out, already in much more interesting conversation, even though Mistoffelees slipped down a couple stairs to watch the pair leave before scurrying back up the stairs, leaning against the banister of the musician’s balcony.

Coricopat stepped up into the carriage, settling himself in and glancing at Franklin, "That was rather an eventful evening..."

"Did you make a good impression?" Franklin asked, hand reaching across the space of the carriage and resting it on Coricopat's knee.

The younger man covered the hand, tracing Franklin's knuckles absently, "I don't think I made a bad one, but I'm not the best there is at reading people, Frank."

"True," Franklin drawled. "But so long as this was a good foundation."

"I..." Coricopat's fingers stilled and his grey eyes rose to meet his lover's, "I think it was."

Franklin's eyes flickered at Coricopat's expression. "Good. Anyone in particular stand out?"

"Well, I believe the interaction with Mr. Jones and his family went rather well, and I managed not to anger Growltiger, so I'd call it a decent start," he answered.

"Good," Franklin said with a nod. "Anyone else in society stand out to you?"

"Are you seeking a specific name, Frank?  I met a lot of society tonight," Coricopat's tone edge towards irritable.

"Simply asking for impressions," Franklin said. "To succeed here you have to have the instincts of who will matter and who won't."

"Mr. Jacobsen, he was a bit of a boor tonight, but even with that still influential enough that people looked the other way," the younger man murmured, turning his gaze to the dark window.

Franklin smiled, inching closer. "Boors can be deeply influential. It's all about the art of flattery."

Coricopat's lips quirked upward, "Yes, that I have noticed.  There were a couple of others of note too, I suppose.  Names and faces are still sorting themselves in my mind, though."

"You'll have plenty of practice in the coming weeks," Franklin said, a finger going to Coricopat's chin to pull his head over to kiss him.

The younger man returned the kiss for a brief moment before drawing back, "How many invitations to these do we have over the coming weeks?"

"Seven," Franklin said. "I'm sure more will come."

"Seven," he breathed, but dismissed his response to that number, doing his best to hide the distaste at that many evenings out.

Franklin frowned, but instead of commenting on it, he leaned in for another quick kiss as the carriage rolled to a stop. "Come now."

Coricopat offered him a ghost of a smile as he stepped down from the carriage, "Come now what, Frank?"

"Come inside, Cori," Franklin replied, leading the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and greetings to any readers who might be here. 
> 
> This story came about due to the fact both your author's took a 400 level Civil War class and then VS booked it off to the East Coast on vacation and spent most of it tramping around Civil War battlefields and a couple different plantations, so quite a bit of this was inspired by specific places, and more information on that will be forthcoming when it shows up (as well as a working bibliography just in case anyone is interested in reading more about the American Civil War). 
> 
> This story is going to cover at least four major time periods through out the war. 
> 
> Title comes from Vienna Teng's song "Antebellum" since that song is basically this story's theme (Followed by Love is Blindness by Jack White or U2, whichever version you prefer). (Actually there's a lot more songs too, that will be complied and stuck up with the sources).


	2. But This Was Your Idea Against All Rationality

_Dear Macavity,_

_Let me start by apologizing for the extreme tardiness of my letter.  I should have written you days ago, I've been whisked away to meeting after meeting for the better part of a week, and last night was the first time I expected to have time to sit down to pen a letter.  Unfortunately we spent much of the evening at a lovely party thrown by one Mr. Bustopher Jones.  At said party I was paraded around like some rare performing animal.  A Yankee who nodded and smiled and agreed with them.  When I think of what I'm willing to tell these people to keep them happy I can feel the bile rise.  I believe that Jones things I might well be a potential suitor for his daughter, as amusing as that is._

_There was one bright point in the endless line of introductions. Jones has a young nephew, fifteen years of age or so. He's well-spoken, gentle, and willing to actually listen to me rather than to expect me to parrot what he wishes to hear.  We spent a good deal of time talking, and I can only hope that there is a chance of him attending at least a couple of the parties that Franklin has informed me that we will be attending over the next weeks.  Seven of them are currently on our calendar._

_I think I may well be going mad with all of this, Mac.  All I truly want is a couple of quiet nights at home, yet I shall have to dress myself appropriately for the evening and go out to smile with Richmond's elite every few nights for the foreseeable future. And without even the promise of it being a small, private dinner party--which even then could be two dozen people for all I know.  None of whom I recognize._

_How is Detroit? How fare you and your brothers?_

_Ever yours in friendship,_

_Coricopat_

o-o-o-o

Several mornings later, Mistoffelees approached the breakfast room warily, relaxing when his uncle was not present but his cousin was.

Victoria glanced up as he entered, offering her cousin a gentle smile, "Good morning, cousin."

"Good morning," he said, offering her a tired looking smile as he surveyed the table, picking at the food but eventually filling up an almost normal sized plate.

"Are you feeling well, Mistoffelees?"  She asked quietly, watching him.

For a moment he didn't react before blinking over to her. "What? Oh, no, everything is fine. I am quite well. How does today find you?"

"It finds me as most days do, though I'm doing well.  Did you sleep well?"

He paused again, and then gave a tiny roll of his shoulders. "Not especially. But that is hardly ruining a day over."

"I do suppose that is true.  Has Father found anything new to request you do?"  She glanced at him before looking back to her plate.

"There's a dinner party tomorrow," he said, sighing. "Otherwise? Not particularly. At least no more than he ever tries to convince me to go to West Point when I'm old enough or his host of demands."

She smiled faintly at that, "Well, at least you've time before you're old enough to do that.  And at the dinner party we'll know most everyone.  That's the one at Growltiger's, right?"

"Most everyone," Mistoffelees agreed. "Somewhat regretfully as the case may be."

Victoria's lips quirked into a smile with a slightly more bitter edge, "No new suitors at least in that case."

Tapping his fork a moment, Mistoffelees glanced over at her. "No new suitors? Wasn't that... Zimmerman going to be there?"

She rolled a shoulder at that, "Yes, I believe so.  Franklin's apparently been bringing him to most things he has invitations for, so yes."

"How did that man end up with all these invitations anyway?" Mistoffelees couldn't help but ask. "So do you not agree with him as a suitor?"

"Oh who knows.  And no, I really don't.  He was very nice, very courteous.  But to begin with, he's a Yankee.  And to follow up that, he was not in the least interested from what I could see."

"Did you happen to notice what he was interested in?" Mistoffelees asked, frowning at something he'd picked out and considering putting it back.

"I suppose that depends on what you mean."

"Anything?" Mistoffelees offered.

"Well, he didn't seem especially happy with the length of time spent, or the number of people.  He wasn't all that sociable, didn't start any conversations, spent much of the evening trailing after Franklin.  He disappeared for a while toward the end of the evening, but really, he seemed most interested in being elsewhere," his cousin answered quietly

Mistoffelees blinked once, before hunting for the jam. "Oh. Well, I'm not particular known for wanting to be at those sorts of parties either."

She smiled softly at that, "No.  You're not.  What did you make of him?"

"You know when he disappeared?" he said after a moment.

Victoria nodded, "Yes?"

"He was sitting with me and musicians for a while," Mistoffelees replied.

Her brows arched at that, "Really?  And what was that like?"

"Quiet," Mistoffelees said. "But... he seemed so relieved to be somewhere quiet, so much more relaxed and happy."

Victoria considered that for a long moment, "Does he actually like it down here in Virginia, or was that as much of a lie as I think it may have been?"

"Oh, I'm fairly certain that was the most blatant lie he gave all night."

"Then why is he here?"

"I don't know, I mean, partly it seemed to be a lack of opportunities elsewhere."

"And so he came south.  Fascinating.  Did you enjoy talking to him?"

Hesitating only a moment, Mistoffelees nodded. "Yes."

Victoria smiled faintly, "I'm glad there's someone you can enjoy talking to at these.  If Franklin continues to get invitations at least."

"At least," Mistoffelees agreed. "Do you know anything about the other man?"

"Which one?  Franklin?"

"Yes, him. He seems..." Mistoffelees paused, searching for the right word.

"Shady?  A little...off?"  His cousin offered.  "I haven't heard much conclusively, ever.  But I've heard a good set of rumors.  Some say he's closely involved in the slave trade, others that he's a speculator, still others branch away from his work and say that he has..." she hesitated trying to word it in a way that wouldn't break the idea of her having feminine sensibilities, "different tastes."

"He," Mistoffelees started and took a careful breath, trying not to think too much on what that actually meant. "Shady, for certain."

Victoria nodded very slightly, "He's not one that I would suggest anyone get involved with, quite honestly.  There's something about him that feels, maybe vindictive is the right word?"

"Yes," Mistoffelees said, thinking about Coricopat and his smile. "It does."

His cousin watched him quietly for a long moment, "What are you thinking of, Mistoffelees?"

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head slightly. "It just... seems odd the two of them together."

She rolled a shoulder at that, "Maybe Franklin's distasteful character isn't apparent to some people?"

"It should be," Mistoffelees muttered.

Victoria offered her younger cousin a faint smile at that, "People look past things they don't wish to see, Misto, you know that."

"I just wish they didn't," he said, sipping a glass of water. "Everyone would be... so much better off if they actually paid attention to the things in front of them, especially the people in front of them."

"They would be, but it doesn’t change the fact that they aren't likely to do that."

"One can always dream about the ideal world, can't they?"

Victoria smiled at him, "Always."

o-o-o-o

_Dear Cor,_

_Well, I'd say I was sorry for your plight but this was your idea against all rationality. I still wish it had worked out in a more satisfactory manner._

_I am sorry to say though that even if you were here, a night in seems to be in rare supply. Tugger has decided his latest calling is the theater, which involves not only attending the theater probably more then is healthy for any sane individual, but also hunting him down in the small hours of the morning and making sure he's home intact. He is strangely enough seeming to thrive there though, so hopefully this time something will stick._

_Munkustrap is a quieter problem, but he requires early morning care as well, except that usually means taking his books and candles away and forcing him into bed so he doesn't overwork himself to the bone. He also eats like a bird so cooking is a constant battle over portions._

_As for the moments I actually manage to acquire for myself, it seems the only source of money left in our house comes from a few hands in a high stakes game of cards, which I have to go out for every few nights when we once again over shoot on some bill or another. We may no longer be living with debt and violence over our heads, but the ends still don't feel like meeting. I'm trying to figure out what sort of mediation they need to get to talk to each other._

_A fifteen year old youth is the only one to catch your eye so far? Either Virginia is as bad as everyone's ever said or your eye needs to cast itself further afield. I am glad that there is at least one person you find it bearable to talk to. Everyone needs an ear from time to time._

_I mean, beside my ear. It's currently filled with Tugger and Munkustrap fighting over who deserves the last candle (besides mine of course because neither of them are getting near that one). I suppose this means another game of cards tomorrow, and restocking the supply of our seemingly nocturnal family._

_Regards in friendship (and exasperation)_

_Macavity_

o-o-o-o

It had been nearly an hour at the party that Growltiger and his wife were throwing before the guests made their way to the dining room.  Coricopat found himself seated across from Franklin and next to Mistoffelees.  He offered the younger man a slight smile, "Good evening, sir.  It's good to see you again."

Mistoffelees' eyes flickered to Franklin and back to Coricopat. "It is good to see you as well," he said with a smile though he carefully kicked Griddlebone's foot from where she was on his other side. Grids glanced at him and arched an elegant eyebrow in silent question.

Coricopat glanced at Franklin, but turned his attention mostly back to Mistoffelees, "And how have you been?"

"Good," he said, narrowing his eyes slightly at Griddlebone, figuring she was simply trying to keep him away from people such as his uncle and her own husband, who he could hardly insult squeezed between her and the soft spoken Yankee. At the very least that was what she was hoping, he was sure. "Life isn't prone to giving one conversation topics, unless it's politics."

That earned another ghost of a smile, "That is rather unfortunately true."

"How has life found you then?" Mistoffelees asked.

"Rather well, actually.  I recently heard from that friend of mine I mentioned, Macavity."

"And how is he?"

"He and his brothers are as well as they ever are, meaning that they're both leading him toward madness.  The elder of the two is in law school, and the youngest thinks he has found his true calling on the stage.  Mac will be lucky if he isn't grey before his time at this rate," Coricopat's smile turned more genuine, even slightly fond when speaking of his childhood friend.

Mistoffelees couldn't help but return the smile. "Is he taking care of his two brothers then? How old is he?"

"My age.  So twenty, his eldest brother's nineteen now, and Tugger's seventeen."  Coricopat shook his head, "So, yes, he's still taking care of them, because neither has the sense to take care of themselves."

Nodding, Mistoffelees knew better then to ask about any parents they might have had. "They sound like rather interesting characters."

"They really rather are," the older man laughed softly.  "It's been years since I've seen them, but they don't sound as though they've changed much."

"It... must have made growing up very interesting," Mistoffelees said after a moment, sounding wistful again.

Coricopat offered him a soft smile, "It did.  Even more for Mac than for me."

"I can't even begin to imagine."

"They were really fascinating to watch."

"Any stories fit to share?" Mistoffelees asked, arching a brow. "Or is that too personal? Or specially your interactions with any of them."

"Well..."  He considered and glanced over at Franklin before brushing aside any second thoughts and smiling at the memory, "Honestly, it's hard to pinpoint a specific instance.  We spent so much of our time out and about with one or both of his brothers trailing after us."

"They seem very different, if one is an actor and the other in law school. What does Macavity do?"

Coricopat hesitated slightly at that, "Well, Macavity does whatever puts food on the table.  Always has."

"He seems dedicated then," Mistoffelees replied with a smile. "Something most people sadly lack."

"Dedicated.  That, yes, that really does sound like him.  Loyal, dedicated, driven," Coricopat shook his head.  "Mac's one of a kind."

Mistoffelees laughed. "Something else we need more of."

That earned another smile, "We really do."

Mistoffelees turned his attention to his food for a scant second. "It is good you still keep in touch then."

"I think we'd both go mad if we didn't," he answered frankly as he turned some of his attention to his food.

Mistoffelees paused, not reacting for a moment. "It must be nice to have someone you could say that about."

Coricopat's smile turned almost sad, "It can be.  Other days it's not, but often it is.  There's nothing I don't trust Mac with."

"Nothing?" Mistoffelees asked in some surprise. Even Franklin was suddenly paying more attention to the conversation, head tilted slightly toward them even as he continued talking to Mr. Levanworth.

Coricopat glanced toward Franklin and then back at Mistoffelees before shaking his head, "Mac's my oldest friend.  He trusts me, and believe me when I say that's nothing to be taken lightly."

"You make me more and more interested to meet him someday."

"The chaos he creates in his wake, though, I would wish on very few.  But who knows, someday perhaps."

"Someday, history willing," Mistoffelees managed.

"History willing," the other agreed.

Mistoffelees turned his glass around, catching the light a couple times in the crystal. "If there as anywhere in the world you could go, where would you?" he asked, thinking about the idea of trust, and friends across distances and feeling his chest hurt a little.

"I..." He glanced at Franklin and finally remembered where he was, "Here of course."  

Mistoffelees followed his gaze, a slight frown pitching between his brows, but he nodded. "Of course," he agreed, trying not to notice how pleased Franklin was looking.

Coricopat dropped his gaze to his plate, before looking up again and offering Mistoffelees a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "And you?  Where would you go?"

"I," Mistoffelees paused, sending a look down the table at where his uncle was paying him no attention but he offered Coricopat a strained smile. "Anywhere else?" he offered, softly.

That earned a faint laugh, "I've been there.  I know the feeling."

Mistoffelees wrinkled his nose and smoothed his expression out. "It's not a particularly nice place to be."

Coricopat shook his head, sparing a glance in Frank's direction again, "No.  It really isn't."

"Someday you move past it, right?" Mistoffelees asked, tone idle.

"That's what I've heard," the other answered.  "The end comes eventually."

"You've heard?" Mistoffelees offered in some surprise.

"Mac made it, or from one situation.  And I got out from under my father's roof," he answered.

"Hearing still implies you haven't achieved it yourself," Mistoffelees said, voice low.

Coricopat pitched his voice to match, "I've gotten out from under my father's roof, but I'm still bowing and scraping to a society I don't entirely care for."

The corner of Mistoffelees' mouth twitched. "You mean like the society I'm a part of and whose dinner party you're currently at?"

Coricopat hesitated, but managed a weak smile, keeping his voice low, "Yes, that one.  In all honesty, if I could go anywhere?  I'd go somewhere where no one knew me and the politics that run constantly under the surface in the country couldn't touch me."

"I hear London is lovely this time of year," Mistoffelees said softly back.

"Oh I would love to see London someday," Coricopat murmured, tone drifting toward wistful.

Mistoffelees grinned, expression open. "Well, when you get there, you'll have to let me know."

That garnered a smile, "I'll see that I do when I eventually make it there."

The corners of Mistoffelees' mouth twitched. "You'd get there before me."

"Possibly," he glanced toward Franklin again.

"Then good luck," Mistoffelees replied, voice still faint.

"Thank you.  And good luck to you as well."

Mistoffelees tried not to snort at that, settling for another smile, his eyes drifting up the table, sighing softly as he noticed the conversation Growltiger and his uncle were engaged in. Coricopat arched an eyebrow, "Anything of note?"

"The topic of human slavery," Mistoffelees said, pulling a face and Growltiger gave him a long look.

"Ah," the brunet nodded, turning his attention back to his food, knowing this was a subject he very specifically was not allowed to weigh in on.  Griddlebone kicked Mistoffelees lightly under the table, offering him a long look.

"And do you have anything to say on the subject?" Growltiger asked, dropping out of the conversation about prices and conditions with Bustopher to level Mistoffelees with a long look. "Since you come from one of the great slave owning families and profit by the trade?"

Feeling his spine tense, Mistoffelees gave him a long look. "It's morally wrong. The institution."

"You read too much," Jones scoffed, waving his nephew off with a hand.

Griddlebone sighed, glancing at Mistoffelees and then at her husband.  Coricopat looked up from his food to spare Mistoffelees a glance before his gaze moved across the table to focus on Franklin.

"I don't," Mistoffelees started and took a deep breath even as Jones' eyes narrowed. "I don't read too much."

"And what would you do then, release all the slaves?" Growltiger asked as Franklin gave the youth a considering look. "Turn our land into revolt and anarchy. You think they could fend for themselves?"

"Well, no, not," Mistoffelees took a breath. "It's still morally wrong to try and own another person."

"Are you not religious then?" Growltiger asked with a sly smile and Mistoffelees took a deep breath.

"It depends on how you read the book, sir."

Coricopat drew a deep breath at that, keeping an ear on the conversation even as he continued to pick at his dinner. The Yankee drew a deep breath, considering for a long moment before finally speaking, "And how would you read it, sir?"

Both Growltiger and Mistoffelees looked at him, unsure exactly which one he was addressing, and Franklin looked thunderously angry a moment. "There are many in the Bible who own slaves," Growltiger replied. "God wills it so who are we to disagree?"

Knowing he was going to hear about everything Franklin thought later, Coricopat steeled himself as he glanced at Mistoffelees, "And you?"

Mistoffelees gave him a bit of a hurt expression and shrugged slightly, looking away. "It is hard to believe a god who created man equally would allow some to be abused so."

"They are hardly abused," Growltiger huffed. "They are children who need to be cared for."

"With chains?" Mistoffelees snapped.

Growltiger shrugged. "If the need arises, yes."

"And whips?"  Tthe question slipped out before Coricopat caught it and he winced.

"If the need arises," Growltiger repeated and Franklin looked as angry as Bustopher now.

The brunet drew a deep breath and nodded, retreating with a faint glance at his lover, "I see.  How humane."

Mistoffelees looked down, focusing more on the plate than anything else for the moment.

o-o-o-o

As the evening came to a close and the guests started to take their leave Coricopat glanced at Franklin as they made their way over to the host and hostess to bid them a good evening. Growltiger smiled at the pair of them, inclining his head but clearly ready to see them leave for the evening. Standing outside, still waiting for their own carriage, Mistoffelees glanced back at Coricopat and Franklin as he pulled on a pair of gloves.

They exited the house after a muted farewell to their hosts, Coricopat offering Mistoffelees a slight nod, "Good evening, sir."

"And a fair evening to you as well," Mistoffelees said, offering him a genuine but tired smile.

The taller man returned the smile faintly as the carriages arrived at the front steps.

Mistoffelees glanced at Franklin before nodding at Coricopat, getting into the carriage after his uncle.

Franklin waited until they were inside their own carriage to turn to Coricopat. "Did you enjoy yourself then?" he asked, voice a shade toward annoyed.

The younger man glanced at him, "It was a decent evening."

"You've been complaining about the large parties all week and now only allow that it was decent? I put you with some of the most influential society in all of the city and you paid more attention to the fifteen year old, let alone insulted Growltiger by questioning him."

Coricopat drew a deep breath looking at Franklin, "I've been complaining about parties where I know no one to speak to.  Said fifteen-year-old was actually a worthwhile conversationalist.  And I did not mean to insult Growltiger, I'll write a letter of apology if that's what you wish."

"A letter of--" Franklin started. "Cori, that's not the point. You need to keep a track of your tongue. And I don't care if someone is a conversationalist, that is not the point."

"I've kept a damn good rein on my tongue until tonight, Franklin.  It was one slip.  And what is your point?"  His grey eyes narrowed.

"My point is good conversationalists are pretty flowers, not useful contacts."

"I have spent weeks establishing useful contacts, Frank.  Is it so bad that I had _one_ evening where I participated in conversation instead?"

"The evening where it was an intimate dinner party and not a gala, yes."

"Frank, there was no one else to talk to.  I can only carry on a conversation with that smile on my face for so long."

Franklin stared at him a long moment. "How dare you? If you can't even perform that simple task what do you hope to achieve here?"

"How dare I?"  Coricopat gaped at him, "I've been bowing and scraping to these people for weeks.  And I've been performing admirably.  Tonight I wasn't feeling well.  My apologies."

"That's not the way it works," Franklin replied. "You don't get to have a day off."

"No, but I should be able to beg out once in a while," the other murmured, turning his gaze to the window.

"Most people would kill for the chance to be near these elites and you want to beg out?"

"The elites that I've been with constantly?  I can't beg illness or anything of that sort?  Send regrets?"

Franklin snorted. "Only if you wish to appear weak."

Coricopat stared at him, "Weak?  You mean weaker than a man who lets others control his life with their whims?"

"The rich's whims are not whims at all," Franklin replied shortly.

"Why do you assume I was talking about them?"  The younger man responded, his voice edging toward cold.

Franklin considered him a long moment. "Ah. Is that why you were so enamored of the Jones boy?"

Coricopat blinked, "Enamored?  What...?"

"You can hardly keep your eyes off him, no matter where we go," Franklin replied. "Even the not jealous type would be hard put not to notice."

"Oh for the love of God, Franklin.  He's fifteen!  He's a _child_."

"Only by the standards of technicality. He's long since stopped acting like a child. And you I think would be hard put to treat him as such."

"I'm hardly enamored, Frank."  The younger man shook his head, "You know I'm here because of you, and you know you're the reason I stay."

"Am I?" Franklin asked giving him a long look.

"How can you even ask that?" Coricopat's gaze flickered over his lover's features.

"You have been distant at best and every time I look up it's to find you staring at a child."

"It's not as though we've had much time to ourselves recently, Frank.  If we're not out an evening at a party, we're involved in business during the day.  When have I been able to be anything but the perfectly trained Yankee recently?"

"When we're alone," Franklin replied. "It's not as if spending time in public takes anything away from that and yet you would act like I wasn't trying to hand you the world."

"Frank, I know you are.  I.."  He glanced away and then back, "Let me make it up to you?"

"And how," Franklin drawled, giving him a long look. "Would you go about doing that?"

Coricopat's expression shifted to something he hope would be marked as more vulnerable, "How would you have me go about doing it?"

"Use your not inconsiderable creativity," Franklin replied testily.

Careful to neither flinch nor snap in response, Coricopat moved ever so slightly nearer to the other.  He was never certain, or comfortable, with initiating any touch between them, but if Frank wanted him to be less distant and to make up for that evening he would try.  Resting a hand on the older man's knee he leaned nearer, his voice softening, "Come now, Frank, are you sure you don't want to contribute?"

"I'm actually much more interested to see what you would come up with," Franklin replied, relaxing slightly.

Coricopat's lips curled into a smile as he leaned in a bit further and pressed a kiss to Franklin's lips, the touch holding a promise of things yet to come once they were out of the carriage and sequestered away. Franklin hummed into the kiss as the carriage came to a stop. "You're on the right track at least."


	3. When I'm Steadier

Looking around the room, Mistoffelees paused. "Oh thank god," he murmured under his breath, from where he was escorting Victoria inside.

His cousin smiled slightly at that, "Dancing.  Are you sure you can find a good partner tonight?"

"Are you intending me to abandon me?" he teased. "I'm certain there will be some willing to dance."

"I wouldn't dream of it.  I'll dance with you as much as is proper, of course, cousin," Victoria responded with a smile.

He laughed. "And how I appreciate it."

"Think we'll make it through tonight without any comments about slavery, Misto?"

He took a deep breath. "I'll try my hardest. Wouldn't want to be shipped off somewhere."

She offered him a reassuring smile, "You'll make it.  I'll be here with you, after all."

"And I will take the small favors from the lord," Mistoffelees murmured.

"Well, we should say hello to some people and then perhaps have a dance?"

"Whatever you think is best," Mistoffelees said with a smile. "Who do we have to say hello to?"

"The Smythes are here, and Mr. O'Neal..."  She answered quietly.

"How exciting," Mistoffelees murmured, even though he already had a smile on. Victoria scanned the room, seeking the people she'd spoken of and leading her cousin over.

"How lovely to see you," Mistoffelees said, smiling and inclining his head to everyone. He knew he had to make something up to his uncle for an imagined slight, or not so imagined depending on how angry Growltiger was at him.

However, the instant Coricopat walked in all his attention moved toward the entry wall, almost stopping.

Victoria glanced at her cousin and followed his gaze, "Go on, say hello to those you wish to, I can just as easily say good evening to Mr. O'Neal on my own.  I'll find you for a later dance."

"No, no, I can do this."

She arched an eyebrow at that before moving along the edge of the room to where the young Mr. O'Neal was. Mistoffelees glanced at her as they started moving across. "I mean, unless you'd rather I go."

Victoria turned to him, offering him a bit of a smile, "As long as father doesn't find out?"

"I promise I would not be the one to tell him."

Her smile brightened even more, "Thank you.  I'll see you later, Mistoffelees."

"For the dance, though if he gets the first one I will probably be able to forgive you."

"I...might just grant it to him if he asks for it.  Enjoy yourself, Misto."

"If he could get his tongue to work enough to ask you that is," Mistoffelees teased.

"Oh, you."  She batted at him, but laughed before turning and heading toward Alonzo.

The tall and lanky southern gentleman in question was looking awkwardly around the room, having trailed in after his own uncle and not entirely certain where to start talking to people, which was hardly a new state of affairs. Victoria approached, hesitating for a long moment and smoothing her hand over the front of her gown.  She took the last couple of steps, "Mr. O'Neal?"

"Miss Jones," he said, brightly, turning fast enough he almost tripped over his own feet before composing himself. "I didn't know you would be attending."

She smiled at him, "Well, Father wasn't able to, but fortunately Mistoffelees was available tonight."

"Oh," Alonzo said, glancing around until he spotted the smaller man and he smiled. "Well, I'm glad."

"So am I.  I wasn't really expecting to see you tonight either, sir."

He smiled faintly at her. "Well, it is perhaps a rare thing."

"How have you been, Mr. O'Neal?"

"I have been," he started and lifted his shoulders slightly. "Nothing really of note in my own personal life. I work, I read, and occasionally even appear in public."

"And it's always such a pleasure to see you when you do," she responded with a fond smile.

He blinked once and smiled. "I'm glad someone thinks so. It's certainly, that is, it's a pleasure to see you too."

Victoria felt the faintest hint of a blush on her cheeks, "Thank you."

"Of course," he said, smiling brightly. "I'm very honest about this things too, so please believe me."

"Oh, I very much do believe you, sir," she answered with the briefest glance toward the dance floor.

He followed her gaze and paused, catching the hint but fumbling with his own reaction. "Oh, do you, um, dance then Miss Jones?"

"Sometimes," she answered softly, glancing up at him.

"Well," he said, smiling fondly. "I should have guessed, considering your cousin lives with you and he's had to practice with someone, though I can't recall seeing you on the floor much and that."

"Father doesn’t always approve entirely," she admitted softly.  "Though I do enjoy it from time to time."

"Well, it's very enjoyable," Alonzo said, shifting again.

"Do you dance, Mr. O'Neal?"  Victoria asked innocently.

"I do," he said quickly and paused, not quite blushing but the bridge of his nose reddened slightly. "Not very well, by any means, and I'd hate to be an embarrassment..."

She offered him a reassuring smile, "I'm sure you wouldn't be.  I'm hardly the best dancer here myself."

"You may not be the best," he said, with a faint smile, "But I think you can safely say you're good."

"Thank you, sir.  I'm sure you're not too bad yourself."

"Oh, I am," he assured quickly.

Victoria offered him a smile at that, "Good to hear."

"No, very bad I mean,"

She blushed, a hand coming up to cover her mouth, "Oh I'm terribly sorry.  I...I misunderstood.  But surely not so bad as all that."

He smiled faintly. "Oh, it's quite alright. I would just hate to make you look bad in front of so many people."

She drew a deep breath and shook her head, "Mr. O'Neal, I'm certain you would do no such thing."

Alonzo hesitated just another moment. "Are you sure?"

"Well, if you would rather not..."  Victoria shrugged, "I am certain I could find my cousin if needs must, but yes I'm sure."

"Well, if you're certain then," he said, smiling a bit warily. "And if you would like to dance... you would like to dance, wouldn't you?"

She offered him a smile and a faint laugh rather than a sigh of frustration, "Yes, I would."

Looking unsure for another moment, he held his hand out. "Miss Jones, would you honor me with this dance?"

She placed her hand in his, offering him a gentle smile, "Mr. O'Neal, it would be my genuine pleasure."

Smiling at her, he led her, still a little nervous, onto the dance floor where other couples were already swirling.

o-o-o-o

Coricopat had entered at Franklin's side for once, rather than a half step behind.  His gaze scoped over the room and he was slightly more relaxed than he had been for a while.  He was settling in better to Richmond life and though he still wasn't certain his footing around Frank was solid, it felt a good deal more steady.

Franklin was looking and feeling a great deal less steady, though he was entirely prepared for the evening in ways he was starting to doubt Coricopat would ever. "Skimbleshanks McKinnet is supposed to be here tonight."

The younger man glanced at him, "Remind me of who that is and what I should address him as, as regards our interests?"

"He is a wealthy land owner," Franklin replied. "He spends half his time in the North too, and is a valuable asset for his clout in both regions."

Coricopat nodded slightly, "Very good to know."  His gaze skimmed around the room, pausing on Mistoffelees before continuing on.

The corners of Franklin's eyes pinched. "This way," he said, steering Coricopat away.

The brunet realized what he'd done and turned to follow the other.  Skimbleshanks looked up as the two of them approached, one eyebrow arching.

"Mr. McKinnet," Franklin said with a wide smile. "How good to see you."

"And you as well, Franklin."  He glanced in Coricopat's direction, "And Mr...?"

The younger man offered a smile and held out his hand, "Zimmerman."

"Oh, Mr. Zimmerman.  I'd heard tell of you."

"Have you?" Franklin asked with a pleased smile. "Good things I'd hope."

Skimble offered a smile as he shook Coricopat's hand, "Very.  You seem like the current talk of the town."

"Well, I certainly do like it here.  It's a lovely city and wonderful company."

The landowner's eyebrow arched, "It can be, yes."

"Good company makes a lovely city," Franklin said, someone else suddenly catching his eye and he paused, frowning. Coricopat glanced at Franklin and followed his gaze.

"If you'll excuse me," Franklin said quite suddenly, moving away.

The younger brunet blinked at that, but nodded.  Skimble inclined his head, "Of course. It was good to see you."

Franklin was gone almost instantly, leaving Coricopat behind as well.

Coricopat blinked after him, turning back to Skimbleshanks, "I'm sorry about that."

"Oh, it's no trouble.  I unfortunately must leave as well, I have a couple of people I really must speak to tonight."

The brunet offered a ghost of a smile, "It was good to meet you."

"You as well, Mr. Zimmerman."

Having safely seen Victoria start a dance with Alonzo, Mistoffelees had made his own way toward where couples were dancing. Coricopat scanned the room, seeing Mistoffelees before he saw Franklin and his gaze stopping there.

Having found a partner, Mistoffelees flowed up and down the dance floor gracefully. He really hadn't been humble about his abilities, and with decent reason.

The Yankee remained where he was, transfixed as he watched the youth dance.  His gaze followed him around the dance floor, the need to follow Franklin momentarily forgotten.

When the dance ended, Mistoffelees bowed and stepped off the floor, glancing around.

Coricopat blinked away from the dance floor, shaking his head to clear it, though his gaze remained mostly on Mistoffelees.

Noticing, Mistoffelees paused before sliding over. "Good evening."

The Yankee smiled faintly, "Good evening.  How are you?"

The corners of Mistoffelees' mouth tilted up. "As well as could be expected. Yourself?"

"Doing rather well actually."  He glanced away to scan for Franklin and see where the other man was. For all intents and purposes, Franklin had disappeared from the room.

"I'm glad," Mistoffelees said quietly.

Coricopat offered another smile, "So am I.  I finally feel as though I might be settling in here."

"Then you're far ahead of the curve," Mistoffelees said, grin widening slightly.

Smile hinting at relief, Coricopat nodded, "I certainly like to think so."

"Someone should be," Mistoffelees said, eyes scanning the room. "As I'm certain I still haven't settled in here."

"Not at all?" the brunet spoke softly.

"Well, I grew up here, so yes, some," Mistoffelees said. "I like the dancing after all. Otherwise?"

"You've a few years yet to find where you fit, perhaps something will come along?"

"I'm not sure two years would help what ten haven't," Mistoffelees replied, looking back at him. "But I hope so."

"There's always some chance," Coricopat responded, looking around to seek out Frank again.  "Sometimes it comes from places you'd least expect it."

"Did yours?" Mistoffelees asked.

The older man smiled faintly and nodded, "Yes.  It did, or it is rather."

Mistoffelees glanced around, not spotting Franklin either. "Then I'm glad for you."

Coricopat’s smile faded, "Speaking of...I really ought to find Franklin.  I haven't seen him in some time."

"He seemed to be disappearing with someone important," Mistoffelees replied. "At least he looked like it was such."

"When was that, did you notice?"  They had been doing so well and if he'd tread back onto thin ice due to another conversation he wasn't sure it wouldn't crack under him.

"Before I came over," Mistoffelees said with a slight frown. "Why?"

He shrugged slightly, "No reason.  Just curious, I hadn't taken note of when he left."

"Well," Mistoffelees shrugged slightly. "Should you be so worried where he is?"

"Should I not be?"  Coricopat shook his head, "Maybe I shouldn't.  I just like to have some idea sometimes."

"It's simply..." Mistoffelees paused and shrugged. "I'm not quite sure you're aware of the things people say about him, and you."

The young brunet glanced at him, "And what do they say?"

"They," Mistoffelees blinked, glancing away. "Comment on the fact you are never seen without the other."

Coricopat arched an eyebrow and then nodded, "Oh, that.  Well, I would think that will be slackening off soon here.  He's introduced me to just about everyone of not, from what I can tell."

"There's always more people of note," Mistoffelees replied dryly.

"Good Lord I hope not too many more this season," the other murmured.

"You really aren't prepared for this world at all, are you?" Mistoffelees remarked, tilting his head slightly.

"I...Honestly?  I'm tired of this world.  I want one week to settle, to take the evenings and not have to go out to a gala or a dinner.  To beg illness, or a headache, or something, and not have it seen as weakness.  Just one week," Coricopat replied, shaking his head.  "As it is, all I can do is hope that I might leave a bit early once in a while."

"That's asking for a lot," Mistoffelees said softly.

"I'd take three days as a compromise," came the quiet response.

That got a small laugh from the shorter. "You could try. If you claimed plague it might shut down enough of society for a few days everyone could rest."

Coricopat chuckled, "Plague might be a bit drastic.  But something, surely."

"Something," he agreed softly. "One would think at any rate."

"You seemed to enjoy yourself on the dance floor," Coricopat changed the subject, nodding to where the couples were still dancing.

Mistoffelees smiled faintly. "I told you I was a good dancer, didn't I?"

That earned a smile, "You did indeed, and you were hardly exaggerating either."

The bridge of Mistoffelees' nose colored slightly. "Well, I'm glad you'd think so."

"I do.  It was enjoyable to watch, you seemed to like dancing so very much."

"I do," the youth said, voice still soft. "One of the few things that make events like this worthwhile. Do you dance?"

"Once in a while.  I've never done much of it, nor have I ever found it as delightful as some do."

For a moment Mistoffelees looked at him like he could barely understand before smiling faintly. "That, sir, is truly a tragedy then."

Coricopat laughed quietly, "Not if you were to ask those who have had the ill-fortune to dance with me."

Mistoffelees waved a dismissive hand. "Please. You probably just haven't found the right partner."

"That is entirely probable, but I doubt, at this rate, that I ever will."

"You should never give up hope of that," Mistoffelees said, shaking his head. "Partners show up when you least expect. Just look at Victoria and her partner over there," he said, gesturing and pausing. "He might not be the best dancer, but they seem more then capable of enjoying themselves."

Coricopat looked in that direction, smiling softly when he saw the young couple, "They certainly do.  And who knows, perhaps I shall at that."

"Well, it's better to not give up hope then to live in despair, isn't it?" Mistoffelees asked, not looking at him.

"Hope is all one has sometimes."

Mistoffelees glanced back at him as Franklin emerged, looking somewhat more pale then usual from a back room, weaving his way over quickly.

Coricopat glanced at Mistoffelees and then toward Franklin, "If you'll excuse me?  Good evening, sir."

"Good evening," Mistoffelees agreed, frowning slightly.

The brunet stepped away from him, slipping over to Franklin's side, "Frank?"

"We're leaving," he replied, tilting his head. "Come."

"I...of course."  The younger man nodded, falling into step with him and dropping his voice, "Is everything alright?"

"Perfectly fine," Franklin replied, easily.

That earned an arched eyebrow, but Coricopat nodded and fell silent.  Schooling his features to pure neutrality until they reached the carriage, he couldn't keep his mind from racing over all the possibilities of what had possessed Franklin to leave early.

o-o-o-o

That night after Franklin took Coricopat home he pinned Coricopat to the bed. Though his touch was quite desperate that night, in the morning he was gone, pinning his large debt on Coricopat, as well as ugly rumors of a scandal.

Finding his life crumbling about him under the weight of the debt and scandal, Coricopat wrapped up what affairs he could.  Making promises to what few contacts he still had in the North who dealt quietly with a large portion of the debt--better to owe people he could pay back without the blight of scandal--he packed what belongings he still had and departed as soon as he could. 

A month after Franklin had left found him standing in front of a small house in Detroit, double checking the address before knocking on the front door, his valise in hand.

There was a brief crashing sound and someone pulled the door open, blinking. "Oh, it's you," a young face said before closing the door. Minutes later yelling could be heard, another crash, and Macavity yanked the door open.

"Cor?"

The brunet, who looked by far the worse for his travels, offered his friend a weak smile, "Hey, Mac."

"I'm assuming this explains that silence from the mail then?" Macavity asked, stepping aside and ushering Coricopat in.

"The…" Coricopat's eyes widened, "Oh Lord I forgot to write ahead, I'm so sorry, Mac."

Macavity snorted. "Well, you're here. I figure something went wrong, and at least you showed up in time for dinner."

He glanced around, for a moment looking even more as though he couldn't believe he'd actually come, "I...Yes, something went wrong as you say.  Do, that is, do you have space for a couple of days until I can find a place?  I'll see about finding a job starting tomorrow."

Macavity shrugged. "Stay, it's more than fine. You can take Tugger's room," he added, for the benefit of the blond sitting on the stairs.

Tugger muttered several curses to express exactly what he thought of that and his brother laughed. "And by that I mean we do actually have a guest bedroom, if you can unearth the bed from 'Strap's law books."

Coricopat offered a ghost of a smile which faded quickly, "I have more than enough practice digging things out from under books.  I'm certain I can find the bed."

"I figured it was a task you were up for," Macavity said, clapping Coricopat on the shoulder and quickly withdrawing his hand.

Startling away from the contact before he thought about it, Coricopat glanced at him, "Thank you, Mac.  How...how have things been?"

"Things have been manageable," Macavity said. "The roof doesn't leak and there's food on the table."

That garnered another faint smile, "I'm glad to hear that.  Detroit seems to have been a decent choice."

"It's quiet," Macavity said with a shrug. "Compared to New York. But sometimes that's a good thing, in this world."

"Quiet sounds like a wonderful change right now," his friend responded, wearily.

Macavity looked him over again. "Come on. I'll start dinner, and then we'll get the bed out. Think you can manage that all?"

Coricopat finally released his valise, setting it down carefully, "I think so.  I'm steady enough to do that much at the least."

"Good," Macavity said. "And when you're even steadier, you can tell me what happened. But that can wait."

 A spark of panic crept into the brunet's expression but he nodded, "When I'm steadier."

 


	4. How Ever did You end Up in the Army Anyway?

_Summer 1862_

Several years into the war, and Mistoffelees awoke with a start, even though it was barely starting to get light out. He had stayed at the plantation house, even though his uncle and cousin had long since moved to Richmond, along with most of their neighbors since McClellan’s army was supposed to be in the area.

From the sound of it the area really meant the lawn leading down to the James River. Scrambling out of bed, he tried to dress himself quickly, buttoning his shirt cuffs as he took the stairs, meeting several domestic slaves at the door before stepping out onto the porch.

Lieutenant Coricopat glanced at his commanding officer before returning his gaze to the Army of the Potomac setting up camp on some unfortunate southerner's lawn, "Not that I object to resting and tending to our wounded, but do we really think it's such a good idea to do it in the home of the enemy?"

"As if anyone of them would still be here," Macavity said, using his left hand to adjust his cap. "Besides, it's near the river, and McClellan wants the supply route. We get some gun boats down here and we'll have actual supplies."

His aide rolled a shoulder at that, "Alright, that's probably true.  Anyone with any sense has left by now."  His grey eyes moved to Macavity's right arm, "You really should get that seen to."

"The bones not broken and the bullet grazed it," Macavity replied, glancing down at the make shift bandage. "It'll hold until things are set up."

"If you're sure you'll still be steady after things are set up.  How did we draw the short straw for being nearest the house?"

"I think some people would consider that a long straw, actually. I mean, I think we're under request not to loot but maybe it means sneaking in and using the dining room table from time to time, when the general isn’t of course," Macavity said, shaking his head. "A real table sounds nice. And I can't imagine anyone still being here," he was saying as the door to the house opened.

Coricopat offered him a smile, but froze as he looked toward the porch and spotted the young gentleman standing there, "...No one will still be here, you say?"

"Well, it," Macavity paused, looking at the young man, who was staring at the army with widened eyes. "Was unlikely."

"Did you happen to find out who owns this estate?"  The lieutenant's voice was muted, an unidentifiable note creeping into it.

"No," Macavity said, looking around. "Someone might know the name, I think they're big on naming their estates. We should go say hello."

Coricopat swallowed, "I...don't know that that's the best of ideas.  You need to get that arm looked at and I should see to the tents."

His colonel finally glanced over at him. "The tents will do fine. The Wheelers are working on it, aren't they?"

That earned a long look from the lieutenant who arched an eyebrow and nodded to where the Wheeler brothers were working, "Oh, yes, they certainly are."

"Hey, hey!" Macavity yelled toward them. "The tent goes _up_ , not sideways."

Private Jerrie Wheeler looked up at that and nodded, "Yes, sir.  Of course, sir."  Turning his attention back to his younger brother he helped the smaller man wrestle the tent pole into place.

Coricopat shook his head, "They're doing so well, what could possibly go wrong.  And must we say hello?"

"It seems the proper thing to do," Macavity replied. "Didn't you rub shoulders with Virginia's elite a couple years ago? Any chance you recognize him?"

"His name's Mistoffelees Jones," The brunet spared a glance for his colonel.  "He's not quite eighteen now I believe.  Yes, you could say I recognize him."

The red head blinked once. "You know, that name rings a bell from your letters," he said, glancing back. "Also, if we don't go up there he looks like he's going to come marching down here. He's already at the stairs."

"He was the fifteen year old in my letters."  Coricopat drew a deep breath, "I'll go talk to him."

"Just you?" Macavity asked, raising a brow.

"Mac, I'm not letting you near him yet.  For the sake of any possible diplomacy."

Macavity stared at him. "You remember the part where I outrank you right?"

"I do.  And if you insist upon coming then you can come, but I will be prompt to fetch the doctor upon our return to camp," Coricopat replied, evenly.  "I just don't think it is wisest to have you be part of his first introduction to the army on his lawn."

Macavity quirked an eyebrow. "Fond of him, aren't you? Well, in that case go intercept him before he hits the lawn."

Coricopat drew a deep breath and nodded before starting in that direction, reaching the bottom porch step before Mistoffelees did, "Good morning to you, sir."

Mistoffelees froze, having been paying more attention to the army then any individual approaching, which was something he was regretting enough it made his chest hurt. "You know, I think that's the exact last thing you said to me too. Except for evening, not morning."

The brunet took his uniform cap off, nodding very slightly, "Though I didn't know at the time that it would be the last thing I said to you."

"I figured not," Mistoffelees said, bracing his hands on the porch column. "I can't say this was expected though."

Shaking his head, the Union lieutenant seemed determined to look everywhere but at Mistoffelees, "No.  I certainly never intended to return to Virginia."

"You left abruptly enough the first time," the younger remarked and frowned. "So, will you be guests here for an extended period of time?"

"We'll be here until we're given new orders.  The supplies should be in tomorrow, hopefully.  Is your uncle home?"

"No," he replied shortly. "It is just me."

Coricopat flinched slightly at that, "Is there anything I should pass along to the commanding officers?"

"Not that I could think of that they would listen to," Mistoffelees replied, voice turning even colder.

Focusing his gaze just to the left of Mistoffelees' left ear, Coricopat nodded once, doing his damndest not to react to the other's tone, "Very well.  If you have need of anything, or have concerns you wish to have addressed, Colonel Macavity Hollister of the 16th Michigan and his men are stationed nearest the house.  You can ask for either myself or the Colonel."

"What's your rank then?" Mistoffelees asked, eyes narrowing again.

"Lieutenant," he offered, still focused more on the porch column than on the young man in front of him, "aide to Colonel Hollister."

"That's the friend, wasn't it?" Mistoffelees asked, looking over the rising encampment.

Coricopat nodded, finally glancing at Mistoffelees, "Yes.  That's him."

"Why is it you can't look at me?" he asked, finally having actually gotten Coricopat's eyes.

Holding his gaze steady, the brunet sighed, "I've long since gotten in the habit of not looking at people, most don't notice."

"You didn't used to be."

"I also used to be more inclined to let people touch me," his eyes widened as he realized he'd said that aloud.

Mistoffelees considered him a long moment. "Times change then," he murmured.

"So do people," Coricopat replied quietly.

Mistoffelees slowly looked over the other's uniform and back to his face. "Yes, I imagine they do."

His gaze skittering away after that examination, Coricopat drew a deep breath, "Well, I've said what I needed to.  If you have need of anything, please don't hesitate to find us."

Mistoffelees actively tried not to laugh. "I shall probably hesitate but thank you at least for the offer."

That garnered a faint smile and a half-bow, "Good day to you, sir."

Mistoffelees gave him another long look. "I suppose I should thank you for the sentiment of that at least."

"Considering that the Army of the Potomac has suddenly invaded your lawn, I see no reason to expect such."

"It does seem rather like a lot of people," Mistoffelees said, not adding that the sudden reappearance of the other was possibly more startling, nor did he add that he was sure his house would be invaded by officers next.

Coricopat clamped down on his desire to actually ask the other how the last two years had treated him, instead murmuring, "And it's fewer than we started with."

"I'm sure the other army can say the same," Mistoffelees replied, eyes flickering over him. "You seem whole though."

"I was one of the lucky ones," he answered, looking away toward the camp.

"Don't let me keep you," Mistoffelees said, looking away.

"I..."He shook his head and put his hat back on.  "It is good to see you again, Mistoffelees, though I wish it were under different circumstances."

Mistoffelees considered him again. "What other circumstances would have brought you back?"

"A guarantee of not dealing with the hint of that scandal again, I suppose," Coricopat answered quietly.  "Beyond that, I don't know."

"Then I'd like to think there's something to come out of this,” Mistoffelees replied, though his expression was still a bit distant.

That earned a faint smile, "It would be nice to think that.  Good day, sir. I'll see you later, I suppose."

"Unless you disappear again," Mistoffelees said, tone light.

He inclined his head at that, touching the brim of his hat before turning and heading back to the camp.  Of all the plantations in Virginia, they had to end up on the Jones'.

Using the arm he'd braced against the column to wrap around it, Mistoffelees rested the side of his head against the white surface, having long since stopped paying attention to the arm and only watching Coricopat walk away.

o-o-o-o

Doctor Zachariah Cohen paused long enough to ask one of the infantrymen where Colonel Hollister had his tent set up before making his way purposefully over to the commanding officer's tent.  He paused outside to make certain he wouldn't be interrupting any meetings before stepping inside, "Colonel."

"Doctor," Macavity replied, using his left hand to write a letter. "Can I help you with anything? How are the men?"

"The men are recovering and resting as they should be.  Though I have heard tell that you have an injury which I have yet to see."

"I have no idea what those men could be talking about.

Cohen arched an eyebrow, "Really?  Let me see it, Colonel."

"I don't even know what you're talking about," Macavity replied with a straight face.

"Of course you do not.  One of these days you will end up with a wound that is worse than you think it is and still you will be this stubborn."

"I know my own wounds pretty well," Macavity replied. "Long practice. Nothing's broken and the bleeding is pretty minimal."

Cohen's lips curled into a smile, "So you were injured then."

"Grazed," Macavity corrected, still working on the letter.

"Close enough.  Allow me to see it for my peace of mind if not for your own."

"If you insist," Macavity sighed. "For your peace of mind though."

The doctor nodded, "Off with your jacket."

Finishing the letter with a flourish, Macavity leaned back, shrugging out of the jacket and wincing.

Cohen offered him a long look at that, but turned his attention to the bandage already in place, removing it and setting to work on the wound, "You should have had this actually seen to sooner."

"It was fine," Macavity protested.

"Right.  Of course.  Where is your aide?"  He glanced at the colonel as he re-bound the wound.

"Talking to the current resident in that house we just encamped on."

"You sent him to do that?"

"Well, he apparently didn't want me to deal with them. Why? Should I not have?"

"I just do not think he interacts well with most people, but that may be my personal opinion," Cohen answered.

"That's just because he doesn't interact well with you," Macavity said, trying not to roll his shoulder away. "He knew the kid apparently."

That garnered an arched eyebrow, "Really?  However did that come about?"

"Cor was down in Virginia before the war," Macavity said. "Apparently something happened."

"Well, that would explain it then.  Do you think that will mean their meeting goes well or worse for it?"

"Worse, I'd think," Macavity replied. "Knowing Cor."

"Well, one does rather hope he doesn't do that much damage considering how long we may be here,” Cohen remarked.

Macavity snorted. "Don't think the boy could do much even if Cor did offend him unduly."

"It's always better to not have them completely irate at us though."

"That's the theory," Macavity agreed. "Hopefully it will work out."

"Hopefully."  He straightened, "That is done now.  I expect to actually be told when you've been injured from here on, though."

"Well, you can keep right on expecting," Macavity said with a smirk.

Cohen rolled his eyes, "At least your men care for your health."

"I... okay, I don't much care for my health but I have enough other people that do that I suppose it works out."

"Indeed.  Is there anything else you've not mentioned?" Cohen asked, giving him a long look with an arched brow.

"Recently?" Macavity asked.

"Since the latest battle."

"Then no, I think I'm intact since the last battle."

"Good."  He glanced toward the letter, "Have you heard from your brothers recently?"

"From one of them," Macavity replied, glancing back down at his arm. "Munkustrap seems to have been lost along the way somewhere. He's been training and forgets to eat, let alone write."

"And you end up in the heat of battle and get yourself injured.  One has to ask what your youngest brother’s damaging tendency is."

"Contrary tendencies," Macavity replied, straight faced. "He refuses to listen and does the exact opposite. It's quite damaging."

"I would say that's rather typical of you and your brothers..." Cohen murmured.

Macavity laughed. "Comes from our role model. Listening to him tended to not end well for anyone."

Cohen shook his head, "I am ever so glad I never met the man."

"So is everyone else in the world who's never met him, whether they know it or not," Macavity snorted, rolling his shoulder to test his right arm and wincing, glad he could write with both hands with no issue, and shoot a hand gun.

"I would probably have made the mistake of saying exactly what I thought had I ever met him."

"No," Macavity shook his head. "No one ever made that mistake."

Cohen shook his head, murmuring under his breath in Russian, gathering up what supplies he had left from his treatment of Macavity's wound. "Come now, Zachariah. All his children walked out of that home intact, more or less. We can't say the same about where we currently are."

The doctor glanced at him and sighed, "No, we cannot.  But it is still a sorry thing that men like that can do as he did and still be left to their own devices.  This, though...This I say the same of."

"How ever did you end up in the army anyway?" Macavity asked.

"They called and I answered.  I had some experience in the medical field and they required doctors.  So, here I am."

"Still doesn't seem like your type of situation," Macavity said. "You seem personally insulted anytime someone turns up with a wound."

Cohen smiled faintly at that, "Well, out here I can forgive them for the wounds, though in some cases I might argue not.  On the home front?  It is normally one's own stupidity at work in some way, from what I have seen."

"You're just the judgmental type, and you might as well admit it,” Macavity informed him with a snort.

"I have no difficulty admitting that, I am well aware of it," the doctor chuckled.

"Sure you are," Macavity hummed. "You just need to scare the fear of god into some people to make yourself really judgmental."

Cohen shook his head, "Of course I do.  But I will leave that part to you."

"Would I ever strike the fear of god into people?" Macavity asked innocently.

"Well, that entirely depends on who you are thinking of.  I believe you could when it comes to some of the soldiers.  But I could not say that with a certainty," the doctor's lips quirked into a faint smile for a moment.

"Sure," Macavity drawled. "Well, if anyone comes sobbing to you, just send them back to me, would you?"

"I might actually send them through your aide first,” Cohen said.

"And I would so very much appreciate you not doing that, doctor," Coricopat spoke from the entrance to Macavity's tent.

"No, I want to strike fear into them. Cor just insults them. How's our boy doing?" Macavity asked, glancing at Coricopat.

"Well, he rather suddenly has the entire Army of the Potomac camping on his lawn, but in the general scheme of things he seems to be rather well," the lieutenant answered.

Macavity arched a brow. "Is that all I'm getting or something?"

Coricopat glanced at Cohen who rolled his eyes, "I've finished treating his wound so I shall be on my way then."

"It wasn't bad!" Macavity protested again.

"This time," the doctor rejoined before exiting the tent.

Coricopat watched him go and then turned back to his commander, "The young man here is the only one of his family here, from what I can tell, and I told him that if he had need of anything to seek one of us out.  I do hope I didn't overstep with that?"

"Probably not. Did he have any requests?" Macavity asked, rolling his arm and frowning down at it again.

"He informed me that there were no requests that he expected anyone to listen to," Coricopat frowned.  He glanced at Macavity's arm, "Did the doctor say how long before that arm's healed?"

"The arm is healing just fine, and as long as I don't need to shoot a rifle I can use my left arm well enough for things."

"Good.  You're fortunate to have that ability, regardless of the reason behind it."

"Fortunate ain't got nothing to do with it," Macavity snorted. "I learned how to use my left hand. It was that or be unable to do anything for the three months it took my broken arm to heal."

Coricopat sighed, knowing that and still having slipped up and spoken as he had, "Alright, that's true.  It still means you're able to deal with what you need to just as well with your left hand as with your right."

"They should require everyone who has to do paperwork to be able to write with both hands," Macavity said, grin the wrong side of feral.

"Most people have enough trouble writing legibly with their strong hand, can you imagine the mess of teaching them to use the other one?"

"I'm sure they'd find necessity to be most educational."

"Oh I'm sure, I still don't recommend it," Coricopat replied.  "God, I never thought I'd be back down here."

"Does it bother you?" Macavity asked, looking up from the papers he was going through from his travel desk.

"I'll go where the orders take us, but yes.  It might not if we weren't currently camped on the Jones estate, but it's still Virginia."

"So, just how fond of this boy did you get then?"

"Fonder than I had thought I might say," his friend answered.  "At the time I had been able to say with perfect conviction that I had no feelings for him, but in all honesty?  He was kind, he was funny, he was willing to talk to me like a person and not as a Yankee.  It...was refreshing."

"I'm sure you make all the boys swoon by calling them refreshing," Macavity said, arching a brow.

"Not that I've seen.  Franklin was convinced I was in love with him," Coricopat murmured after a moment.

"Cor," Macavity said softly, eyes widening. "Everyone in the world figures out what you feel before you do yourself."

"But, Mac, I didn't.  I wasn't.  It was always Franklin at that time.  You know that," Coricopat shook his head.

"You did go and fall hard for the bastard," Macavity agreed. "Jealously aside, think there was anything to that?"

"I-I don't know,” the brunet sighed, "He was fifteen, he was delightful to talk to, and the only thing that made those damnable parties bearable.  And, Lord could he dance."

Macavity's brows shot up. "I'd hate to remind you, but he's older now."

"Of that I am painfully aware, he's also on the opposite side of a war."

"You realize this doesn't mean you get out of talking to him though, right?"

Coricopat sighed heavily, "No, I am well aware that it doesn't."

"Are you going to be able to manage this?" Macavity asked, taking the time to seek out his eyes.

Meeting Macavity's gaze for a moment before glancing away, Coricopat nodded, "Of course I am.  Why...why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you didn't see your expression when you talked about a boy dancing."

Running a hand over his face, the lieutenant sighed, "I...I'll have to be."

"Let me know if there's something I can do to help."

"If I can think of anything I'll certainly let you know.."

"So when do I actually get to meet him?" Macavity asked, shuffling his papers and wincing when it pulled on his arm, putting them back into the travel desk.

"Well, that will entirely depend on whether or not he ends up needing any contact with you.  As it stands now, it could be a while."

Macavity stopped screwing the lid on his inkwell to give Coricopat a long look. "Have you still not learned to not tell me things like that?"

Coricopat winced slightly, "Apparently not.  Please, Mac, I'm planning to keep contact with him to a minimum, I don't see any reason for the commanding officer of the brigade to have to contact him either."

"Shouldn't you just know better than to plan things? Because he'd have to agree with you."

The lieutenant looked at him for a long moment and then sighed, "Probably.  I've tried to stop making concrete plans over the last couple of years, but my goal is to avoid him as much as I can, whether he or you allow it is a different matter entirely."

Macavity held his hands up. "I'm here to be helpful, honestly."

"Then help me avoid him when possible? Please?"

"Can't make that promise, Cor, but I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Coricopat relaxed ever so slightly at that.  "Is there anything you need me to see to?"

"Since our tents seem to be upright and not tilting in any alarming fashion, you might see if the kitchen has been set up yet."

Touching the brim of his cap, the brunet nodded, "I'll be back soon with either some food or information on when it can be expected."

Macavity waved him off again with his left arm, considering the stretch of the bandage on his right. Waiting for Coricopat to leave, he rose himself, heading out to meander the camp.

Private Terrance Wheeler stepped out of the tent that he and his brother were assigned.  Taking off his hat and running the back of his hand over his brow he briefly considered how much had changed in the last several months.  It started with his decision to enlist with Jerrie, and the fact that it had been possible to get into the army and wrapping up with the fact that through a campaign against Richmond and the battles therein the fact that the young soldier was still recognized as Jerrie younger _brother_ rather than as his sister Rupleteazer was little less than a miracle.

Teazer replaced the hat on her red hair, cut short to emulate her brother.  Virginia was too damn hot, but it wasn't like they could shut off the heat.  She started away from the tent and headed toward the mess tent.

Macavity encountered the other solider on the way. "So, is there actual food in this direction?"

The private glanced at him with a shrug, "I don't know, sir, I figured I might as well check.  Rumor has it there is."

"Camp rumors about food at least tends to be true."

"Usually, specially if you get 'em from the right source."

"Do you have the right source? Because I would like to be in on that," Macavity said, trying not to itch at the bandage. After years of physical injuries he'd thought he'd be better about not pulling at the wound.

The redhead grinned, "I know the camp cook pretty well."

Macavity hummed under his breath. "You know, I'm not sure he likes me."

"The cook?  Ah, he likes you well enough, he's like that with everyone."

"Terrifyingly attached to his food?" Macavity replied.

That earned a laugh, "Something like that, yeah."

"And you're friends with him?" Macavity repeated. "I can't tell if you're braver or more foolhardy for it."

"Well, me?  I like to think the first.  My brother'd tell you it's the second though."

"Most people who think themselves brave get told otherwise by everyone else."

That got another grin from the youth, "Bravery can look like a lotta other things, sir."

"Because the result of the actions look like a whole lot of other things," Macavity replied, shaking his head.

"Depends on who's lookin' at those results too."

Macavity snorted. "Generals or civilians usually."

The private grinned, "Yeah, sounds about right.  So you're out looking for food too, then, sir?"

"Strangely enough, even officers have to go to the food, rather than having the food come to me."

"What an idea, to have you forced to mingle with us a bit."

"Was mingling ever in my job description?" Macavity asked. "Because I know I signed up for something but I didn't realize it was the masses."

"Spendin' time with the masses when gettin' food isn't gonna do you any harm, I'm sure, sir,” Teazer replied, glancing up at him.

"Have you met the masses, private?" Macavity asked, shaking his head. "Because they are terrifying."

"Some of 'em."  The younger soldier grinned again, "Can't all be that scary, Colonel."

Macavity made a sound of disagreement. "Show me an unterrifying mass and we'll talk again."

"It's all in how y' look at 'em.  These fellas 'round here aren't so bad most of the time."

Macavity looked around, expression exaggerated. "Are you sure?"

That got a laugh, "Yeah, I'm sure.  Spend enough time with 'em you start to see that."

"Does that mean you think I should spend time with them?"

"I dunno, I doubt it.  Just sayin', they're not so bad after a while.  They're a pretty good group a fellas all told."

"Considering we're putting our lives and the hope of our republic in their hands, I hope so."

"Well, they're good like that too, but I meant as people too.  Some folks can fight, but ain't the sort you'd want to share a fire with though."

"Think you're the type worth watching a fire with?" Macavity asked, leaning against the tent pole to the mess tent.

Wheeler shrugged, "Mebbe.  Gotta ask the people I share a fire with.  Some people think so."

"So long as some people think so," Macavity grinned.

That got another grin, "I'd ask you to join us, but somethin' tells me the other fellas might not take it as well."

The colonel just grinned ferally. "Well. We'll see what surprise inspections will have to come about."

The younger Wheeler brother touched the brim of his cap, "Guess so.  Better see about food if we're gettin' it."

"Go ahead," Macavity said, gesturing with his left arm.

Nodding once, the younger solider slipped into the mess tent, "Yes, sir."

Macavity watched him go before entering the tent, running into a surprised Coricopat and simply grinned at him.

The lieutenant blinked at him and held out the ration he'd been given for the colonel, "You do remember the part where you sent me to fetch this, right, sir?"

"I did. Then I got bored."

"Of course you did," Coricopat glanced around the mess tent. "Are you still bored or are you returning to your tent now that you've gotten food?"

"Hm," Macavity hummed, looking around. "Probably the first."

"Right.  Well, are you going to insist that I remain or am I allowed to depart?"

"Oh, you can depart. I believe there is business you should be seeing to?"

"Is there?"  the lieutenant sifted through what was still on his list to get done.

"There's always something," Macavity replied.

"Always.  All right, if you need me I should be easily found.  Good day, Colonel."

"Good day," Macavity said, waving a hand at him. "Try to not avoid anyone obviously."

"I'll do my best," with that promise Coricopat slipped out, and headed toward the edge of the camp.


	5. You'll be Missed Eventually

A handful of days after the troops arrived on his lawn, Mistoffelees sat on the steps leading up to the house, watching the camp move in front of him. The last few days had been stressful, trying to keep his house together and hoping the soldiers would stay out of the fields, even as the slaves of the plantation spent more of their time trying to convince the commander of the army to take them with him when they left then work. Even slaves from the neighboring plantations had started appearing with the same request.

Since the army had arrived, Mistoffelees had seen Coricopat stride past several times, each time trying his hardest not to look over.

The lieutenant had been doing his best to avoid Mistoffelees over the days since the arrival of the army and so far felt he'd managed it passably.  He knew he'd eventually have to at least speak to the younger man again, but he wasn't certain he'd ever be entirely ready to do so.  He made his way past the porch in the mid-afternoon, taking the slightly longer route to avoid encountering too many people as he was in the habit of doing when he could.

"How many times are you going to walk by as if I'm not here?" Mistoffelees asked, voice idle, chin in his hand as he tracked Coricopat's movements.

The other startled, turning to him, "What?  I'm not certain I understand."

Mistoffelees quirked a brow and otherwise didn't react. "Truly?"

"Alright, no.  Not truly.  I...was hoping to manage it for another day though."

"Interesting. Why?"

"I...that is."  He glanced toward the camp, "I've had things that need to be done?"  Biting back a curse at the inflection on that sentence turning it into a question rather than the statement he'd intended, he looked back to Mistoffelees.

Mistoffelees looked torn between laughing and being offended. "You don't sound so sure of that. A hello would satisfy social niceties though. Your colonel says it often enough and he seems sure he has other things to be doing."

"You and Macavity have spoken?"  That earned a surprised glance.

"Spoken? Only in the strictest sense of the word," Mistoffelees replied ruefully.

Coricopat might have looked a shade too relieved at that, "I am sorry I haven’t said hello.  I've been, well, sorting things out."

“What sort of things?" he asked, curiously.

"How to even begin to interact with you for one, well, mostly that actually.  I never expected to come back to Virginia, and I certainly never expected to again meet someone who knew me then."

"Then," Mistoffelees repeated. "You make it sound like it was an entirely different life."

The brunet tilted his head on one side and considered the other, "It was."

Mistoffelees blinked. "And do you not consider it worthwhile to carry things from one life to the next?"

"And tell me, sir, what did I have to take with me?  Beyond bitter memories and more debt than I could ever hope to pay?"  Coricopat asked quietly.

 "I was going to say friendship, but now I think you wouldn't want it."

That brought him up short, "Friendship?  I...I would not have rejected it, but look where the world has come.  Do we honestly think that could be possible?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Mistoffelees asked, crossing his arms over his knees.

"We're from different worlds, Mistoffelees, we always have been, and the dividing lines have deepened since then.  Do we really have anything in common?"

A crease formed between Mistoffelees' brows. "I am fighting in no war," he said softly. "I have not invaded your home, that was the other way around. Whatever did we have in common in that other life then?"

"I don't know.  We formed our interactions on a separation from the others I suppose.  There...there was a vivacity about you that drew me to you, but I don't know if we ever held anything in common."

Suddenly, Mistoffelees rose. "Then we have nothing to speak of, you're right. Sorry for taking you away from the very important things I'm sure you were doing."

Coricopat flinched at that, "Mistoffelees, wait.  I'm sorry.  I just...I'm at a loss.  I don't know where to begin.  Or how to."

"Begin what?" Mistoffelees asked, crossing his arms and wishing that he'd actually grown since the last time he'd seen the other.

"Talking without making a mess of the conversation to start with," he ran a hand over the back of his neck.  "We used to be comfortable around one another and now I can't seem to say or do anything right."

"So far as I can tell you haven't tried to do so yet," Mistoffelees said, a bit sardonically. "You say things but you're never acted like you were trying."

"The fact that I'm even talking says something."  He sighed, "I'm not as familiar with polite company anymore."

"Company is never polite," Mistoffelees said quietly.

That garnered a faint smile, "No.  I suppose that is true.  Society holds too many veiled meanings

"It's a much less enjoyable form of dancing. I would rather the world be honest with what it meant," Mistoffelees said.

Glancing away, Coricopat shook his head, "I think that though honesty should be praised, to hear it frequently would do more harm than good."

Mistoffelees snorted. "Of course."

"There's a danger to honesty," the brunet murmured.

"And what could that be? Secrets coming too much to light?"

"A rejection of an honest thought can hurt more than an omitted truth,” Coricopat said softly and Mistoffelees startled.

"That's assuming only there is rejection,” he said, carefully.

"You think there wouldn't be?" Coricopat quirked a brow up at him and he barely didn’t wince.

"Not in all things," Mistoffelees said quietly.

"And where would there not be rejection found in honesty?"  Coricopat shook his head slightly.

"With other honest people, one would hope," Mistoffelees replied, arching a brow.

"But how is one to know when they're with honest people?"

"Instinct I would hope. Or trial and error,” he said with a roll of his shoulders, considering the other.

"Error more often than success," Coricopat muttered, hating how bitter that sounded.

"Then you might want to work on instinct."

"Yes, that's gone so well for me in the past after all,” Coricopat said darkly and Mistoffelees paused.

Arching a brow again, Mistoffelees just considered him. "Your colonel seems honest."

"Mac's an exception, not a rule.  And I've known him most of my life."

"Then maybe you just need to meet more people,” Mistoffelees said and hoped he didn’t sound too snide.

"Maybe so..."  He considered the younger man for a long moment, "Have you ever found anyone honest?"

"Yes," he replied. "He's currently fighting for the army of New York and not Virginia though."

That earned a long blink, "Who?  If I may ask?"

"Alonzo O'Neal? He was briefly engaged to my cousin before the war but," Mistoffelees shrugged. "That was rather abruptly dissolved by my uncle."

"I think I do vaguely recall him.  From what I saw he seemed a fine young man."  He hesitated, "Did your uncle dissolve the engagement before or after O'Neal enlisted?"

"As soon as he indicated his loyalty lay to the North."

"How did O'Neal's family take it all?"

"They were with him," Mistoffelees said, arching a brow. "Skimbleshanks had always split his time between the two states."

"As I said, I only vaguely recall the young man and his family."  Coricopat shook his head, clearing it, "How has your cousin been?"

"Not well," Mistoffelees shrugged. "After all, there's a war going on, and her fiancée is off on the other side. How would you feel?"

That caused him to pause for a long moment, "Not especially good.  Do you know which regiment he's in?"

Mistoffelees shook his head. "I can see about making inquiries if you would like," he offered after another moment.  "I can't promise anything coming of them, but I might be able to try."

"For news of someone my uncle would prefer to be dead?" Mistoffelees asked.

"For news of someone your cousin probably would like to know is alive."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Mistoffelees' mouth. "If it wouldn't be too much effort."

Coricopat returned the smile gently, "I'll see what I can do.  But no promises.  You said he's with a New York volunteer regiment?"

"Yes," Mistoffelees nodded. "Probably an officer of some sort, but we’ve gotten no information past the enlistment."

"I'll write some letters, see what I can find.  But I make no promises."

"I could ask for none,” Mistoffelees replied, tone quiet.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"What else could you possibly do?" Mistoffelees asked, arching a brow.

"I don't know, just offering if you think of anything."

Tilting his head, Mistoffelees considered him. "If you stop long enough, I'll let you know."

That garnered another faint smile, "Please feel free."

Mistoffelees looked him up and down a moment. "Don't let me keep you, however."

"I...right.  I am due back at camp...  Good afternoon, Mistoffelees."  He touched the brim of his cap, offering the other a half-bow.

"Does that mean you're leaving again?" Mistoffelees asked, arching a brow.

"I need to.  But, if you've no objections I can return later?"

Mistoffelees' smile was strained. "If you like," he said, trying not to consider the twist of his stomach, considering the last time after a line like that Coricopat had disappeared for two years.

Coricopat offered him a brief smile, "Then I'll be back."

Mistoffelees managed not to say he'd believe that when he saw it. "Alright. Good day to you."

The lieutenant inclined his head before slipping back to camp, considering when he'd be able to return later that evening.

o.o.o

After the final meal of the day, and several letters written and set to be sent with the next post, Coricopat headed up to the main house, stopping at the foot of the porch steps.  He glanced around seeking out the younger man, "Mistoffelees?"

The youth was inside though, so one of the slaves stopped, pointing the way and opening the door before disappearing again.

Coricopat inclined his head to the slave before stepping inside, "Hello?"

Mistoffelees paused, before poking his head over the banister of the staircase. "Yes? May I help you?"

"Well, I said I'd be by later.  If you'd rather I return to camp I could," he hesitated, wondering if he'd over-estimated the invitation.

"No, that's," Mistoffelees shook his head slightly, leaning against the railing. "It is simply unexpected."

"I..."  Coricopat blinked up at him, removing his hat, "Really?  I told you I'd be back."

"You did," Mistoffelees said after a moment. "But even if I had been expecting it, it would not have been this soon."

"And may I ask when it would have been?"

Mistoffelees looked down at him from the balcony at the top of the stairs. "Two years?"

Coricopat flinched slightly at that, "That's not fair, sir."

"No, it's not," Mistoffelees agreed. "These are unfair times. May I help you with anything?"

"Apparently not.  I just came to say hello, to see if there was anything you wished, and to let you know that I've started sending letters to the New York regiments."

Mistoffelees blinked once. "You wasted no time then."

"When I give my word I try to act on it as soon as possible," the older man answered quietly.

"That is a nice change," Mistoffelees remarked. "Do you have more important things to do?"

Coricopat shook his head, still looking up at the other, "No.  Everything I needed to have done today is done."

Mistoffelees offered him a faintly strained smile. "Well then."

"May...may I come up?"  His gaze flickered over the balcony, and he hesitated as he realized it was where the musicians would be cloistered during a party hosted in the house.

"If you would like," Mistoffelees said, fingering the banister and stopping. "I might be able to find some wine that hasn't been stolen from the cellar as well."

Coricopat offered him a slight smile at that, "If you'd be willing to share it and you still have some."

"I recall hiding it well," Mistoffelees replied with a faint smile.

"Then I certainly won't say no to it.  It's been a while since I've had decent wine."

"I would say that's a travesty, but I suppose it might no longer be so," Mistoffelees said, finally turning toward the stairs.

Coricopat started toward the foot of the stairs, pausing there to wait for the smaller man, "How are you holding up with us here?"

"As well as can be expected when an invading army shows up. I see your gunboats have arrived with supplies. It's intimidating, really."

He nodded slightly, "I...I can see it being intimidating.  And, yes, we've supplies now, thank goodness. I'm so sorry about us being here like this, and what it's putting you through."

"You're sorry?" Mistoffelees quirked a brow, stopping a few steps from the bottom so they were still eye to eye.

"Well, yes.  I wish you didn't have to go through this.  I know it's a useless sentiment, but still."

"It's sweet, either way," he said, shrugging. "Pointless, but sweet."

Coricopat offered a faint smile again, "Sweet is something I suppose.  You... don't mind my stopping in do you?"

"I offered you my hidden wine," Mistoffelees replied with a rueful smile. "Assume of that what you will."

"Shall I wait here while you locate it?  So that it remains hidden."

"Please, like I would have hidden all the bottles in the same place," Mistoffelees smiled. "Come, let's see which one I find first."

That garnered a smile, "Lead on, then, sir."

Mistoffelees looked him over, before heading toward the cellar, poking around for a while before emerging with a bottle. "Here, good sir."

"You, my dear sir, are a delightful host."  Coricopat stood at the base of the stairs, one hand on the wall and a foot on the bottom step as he watched the other man.

"I haven't quite forgotten how to be good company, yet," Mistoffelees replied, hunting around for a bottle opener. "We can either stay down here in the cellar, where it's cool, or retreat elsewhere." Except there was much less of a where to retreat, as several of the officers had moved into the lower floors of the house.

"I believe I'm going to vote for the cellar.  I never did adjust to the heat down here, and it's nice to be someplace cool for once," Coricopat answered.

Mistoffelees smiled, sitting down on a bench near the wall. "Well then."

The lieutenant hesitated before moving over to join him on the bench, "Thank you for this."

Mistoffelees shrugged. "At least there's some glasses down here too."

"Yes, at least."  He hesitated for a long moment, "You know, the longer I stay around here the more I remember the good times from that other life."

"Glad to be of some service at least," Mistoffelees said, pouring him a glass of the red wine into a mug, wrinkling his nose but not inclined to go fetch better cups. "What sorts of things?"

"A night spent on the musician's balcony rather than pretending to be a dancing bear for others' amusement," Coricopat murmured, sipping at the wine.

Mistoffelees swallowed too much at once. "And that was a good thing worth remembering?"

"It was," came the murmured response.  "It was the bright spot in that memory."

"I'm flattered," Mistoffelees remarked dryly, but softly.

"That was before I started hearing about every last thing I did wrong at those soirees."  Coricopat smiled bitterly, "But even then those were worth it by the end of the evening."

"You did nothing wrong," Mistoffelees said quietly. "Not even then."

The smile softened as he glanced at the younger man, "Thank you.  That's very kind of you to say."

"Besides, even if you were doing anything wrong, my own transgressions far out shadowed your's and I grew up in that world."

"It's all in what's perceived as wrong.  I was careful to be as careful around society as possible, but jealousy doesn't see that," he replied, rolling a shoulder in a half-shrug.

"Jealously?" Mistoffelees tilted his head, refilling his mug. "And disappearing during one's cousin's engagement party counts as quite the social slight."

That earned an arched eyebrow, "You disappeared during her engagement party?"

"I got distracted," Mistoffelees muttered, taking a long drink.

"Distracted?  Am I allowed to pursue that distraction or shall I leave it be?"

"Depends on how much you want to know," Mistoffelees replied, trying to remember what the original topic was so he could change it back.

"I rarely ask questions to which I don't wish the answer, but if you would prefer, I don't have to ask."

"What did you mean about jealousy?" Mistoffelees countered instead.

His grey eyes widened and he took another sip of wine, trying to reengage his mind after that, "You know what, perhaps we had better leave off that line of questioning on both sides?"

Mistoffelees considered him. "Do you remember those rumors?"

"The ones about myself and Franklin?  The ones that consumed my life like wildfire after he vanished?  I can't forget them."

"Where they true?" he asked, glancing over.

Coricopat dropped his gaze to his wine, falling silent for a long moment before he finally nodded, "Most of them, yes.  For all the good it did me."

"Which ones weren't?" Mistoffelees asked, trying to sound idle.

"The most sordid."  He drew a deep breath, knowing that he could either admit it, or Mistoffelees could make of it what he would.  It might well land him permanently out of the other's good graces, but he'd try honesty for once, "I was in love with him, or I thought I was.  And I thought he loved me as well.  We...yes, we were lovers.  And then one morning I woke and he was gone, leaving me with nothing but his debt and scandal."

For a long moment Mistoffelees didn't say anything, taking another sip. "I was being distracted with a very well meaning boy with gorgeous grey eyes. I never did mention that fact to my uncle."

Coricopat's gaze darted to him at that, "Grey... You mean..."  He swallowed hard at that, "God."

Mistoffelees shot a look over at him. "He is dead, that letter they actually delivered, because he'd left his journal and several possessions to me. Only time anyone's bothered to tell me what's going on," he said, draining the mug and considering before refilling it.

"One of the lucky ones," the lieutenant murmured, though which young man he meant was unclear.  His eyes widened a split second later, "Oh, Lord, I didn't mean that how it sounded.  I mean... I’m sorry that happened, that you had that happen."

"It's war, isn't it?" Mistoffelees said, otherwise ignoring him to drink more of the wine.

"That doesn't make loss any easier."

"No, but it's what we have to live with."

"Still.  I-I shouldn't have said that," Coricopat murmured, finishing off his cup of wine.

Mistoffelees refilled the cup without looking at Coricopat and frowned when the bottle came up empty. "Perhaps not."

"It's hell, you know," the brunet said after another moment.

Mistoffelees finally glanced back at him. "War?"

The other nodded, "Not knowing if the next battle will be the last day you see, or if the men you're fighting with will be there when the smoke clears.  Never having an idea of whether you'll return home whole, or if you'll even return home."

"Sh," Mistoffelees said, shaking his head and reaching out one hand to rest on Coricopat's shoulder. "Don't..."

Startling, the lieutenant darted a glance at him, his grey eyes clearing after a moment, "God, I'm sorry.  Not exactly a reasonable conversationalist tonight am I?"

"I don't want to think about it yet," Mistoffelees said, looking away again but not removing his hand.

"Will you be enlisting when you're old enough, then?"  Coricopat asked mutedly.

"They're talking about a draft," Mistoffelees said. "Rumors. If I didn't enlist I would have to head to the North at the very least, and even then probably be told it is my duty to fight one place or the other."

Coricopat took another drink of his wine, "God almighty.  I hate this bloody war."

"I would just rather join it on my own terms then be forced into it,” Mistoffelees said after a long moment, silently in agreement with Coricopat.

"I know how that goes.  Though admittedly I joined as much to try and keep Mac alive as anything."

"It's seemed to have worked so far," Mistoffelees remarked, considering his empty mug and the empty bottle.

"So far, yes," the lieutenant set his own empty mug aside with a sigh.  "We'll see how long that lasts."

"You don't sound very sure of his survival," Mistoffelees said, arching a brow.

"Mac is a survivor.  He always has been.  But he's also the sort who will end up on the front line time and time and time again.  He won't let the doctor look at any injuries he considers minor without the doctor seeking him out."  Coricopat shook his head, "He's far too stubborn for his own good in that respect."

"There's always so many stubborn people," Mistoffelees muttered into the mug.

That earned a faint chuckle, "It can be a good quality some times."

"Not in times of war," Mistoffelees said, standing and wavering a moment, trying to find his balance again.

"No.  In times like these it's not, though it's better than recklessness," he replied, holding out a hand from where he was still seated to steady the other.

Mistoffelees blinked down at him. "I'm fine."

Coricopat arched an eyebrow, but nodded before rising and steadying himself with a hand on the nearest wall, "Of course."  He paused for a moment before placing a gentle hand on the younger man's arm.  Wavering for a handful of second he finally set caution aside and leaned down, kissing Mistoffelees lightly, hesitantly, giving the other space and the ability to draw away if he chose.

Tensing, Mistoffelees didn't react for a long moment before jerking back, trying to keep his motions controlled and not succeeding. "What?"

Coricopat's eyes widened, "I-I'm sorry.  I..."  His gaze darted to the stairs, "That..."

"Why?" Mistoffelees asked instead, changing tactics slightly.

"Because, I..."  He considered and then answered with words that surprised himself, "Because I've wanted to do that for a very long time, no matter how much I denied it."

"We've not known each other that long," Mistoffelees protested quietly.

"No, not when you count time as interactions, but it's been a while since I've been here."  He drew a deep breath, "Any good memory I can truly recall of Virginia without the taint of bitterness includes you, if you want another reason."

"We," Mistoffelees waved one of his hands, trying to form a thought. "But you..."

"But I?"  Coricopat prompted, his attention focusing on Mistoffelees entirely.

"I mean, aside from your refusal to so much as look at me these past days suddenly you are trying to convince me that..." he shook his head. "What exactly are you convincing me of?"

"I'm not trying to convince you of anything.  I...I shouldn't have come in the first place.  I just, no, I haven't been looking at you hardly at all these past few days, and God knows I shouldn't have kissed you."  He pinched the bridge of his nose, "I should be on my way..."

"Just like that?" Mistoffelees asked, brows coming together.

"What do you want me to say?"  Coricopat narrowly avoided snapping.  "I've been avoiding you to the best of my abilities to avoid what I just did.  Franklin wasn't far off in his jealousy, even if I didn't want to admit it even to myself."

Mistoffelees stared at him a long moment. "And you're not just joking?" he asked again.

That earned a frown, "I don't 'joke' about things like this."

"It's a little hard to absorb, that's all," Mistoffelees said, rubbing a hand across his eyes to try and focus.

"I...I suppose it is.  I'm sorry."  He ran a hand over the back of his neck, grey eyes darting to the stairs again, "Do...that is...do you want me to go?"

"You probably should," Mistoffelees said, leaning against the wall. "Or you could try that again."

"Try..."  He blinked, "You're sure?"

"Not entirely," Mistoffelees said quietly. "Would you rather not?"

"That's not what I meant.  Of course I want to, I just want to know that you want it as well."

"Just because I'm not sure yet doesn't mean you can't convince me."

That earned a faint smile, "May I then?" Mistoffelees glanced toward the stairs again and back to Coricopat, nodding slightly.

The brunet hesitated for another moment before crossing the space between them and leaning down to kiss the smaller man again, still as cautiously as before.

At first Mistoffelees allowed that, before pressing further into the kiss and pulling Coricopat down toward him more Even then he tried to keep one ear toward the door. One arm wrapping around the youth's waist, the lieutenant pressed insistently into the kiss and tangled his free hand in the other's dark hair.

Making a surprised sound, Mistoffelees tilted his head back, hands resting on Coricopat's waist. Humming into the kiss, Coricopat drew him closer against him, combing his fingers through Mistoffelees' hair.

Finally, Mistoffelees moved back again, swallowing hard. "You'll... you'll be missed eventually."

The lieutenant drew a shaky breath, "Yes.  I...May I come again?"

Mistoffelees nodded, a tiny quick motion of his head. "Yes, yes you may."

That earned a smile, "Thank you.  Take care, Mistoffelees."

He smiled faintly, not looking entirely sure. "I'll do my hardest."

Coricopat reached out, resting a hand on the other's cheek for a brief moment before stepping away from him toward the stairs. Mistoffelees watched him leave before looking around, hiding the bottle and the cups again before smoothing his hair down to face his own home once more.

Coricopat wasn't entirely steady when he finally reached the camp again, though he was in a far better mood than he'd been earlier and for the past couple of days.  He hoped to be able to simply fall into his bedroll and sleep until reveille the following morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has literally been five months since I updated this story--I am terribly sorry if anyone is reading it.


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